Chapter 1

Archived Version

What happens when a girl with a head full of filthy fantasies stumbles upon a high-tech war factory — one with a fully customizable assembly line, inexhaustible materials, and unlimited power, capable of letting her build an army that could flatten a medieval civilization in two weeks? She uses it to tie herself up, obviously.
Commissioned work; author: 无忧上人 user/76694342

Huu~

Alice stood before the semicircular assembly platform and drew a deep breath, her slender fingers trembling slightly as she pressed the red button that would begin the assembly sequence. This was far from her first time coming here to modify herself in pursuit of a thrill, yet every time she submitted to transformation, she felt unavoidable tension — half fear of the lost technologies left behind from an ancient era, half excitement at the prospect of becoming a latex toy once more.

This place was one room among many in a vast, honeycomb-like prehistoric ruin buried beneath the mountains behind Falling Star Town. Based on ancient texts found within the ruin, Alice had deduced that it must have been built approximately a thousand years before the current Mageblade Era, during what records called the Civilization Era. The people of that age had worshipped the power of machinery, their obsession with gears and steam as all-consuming as modern humanity's devotion to sword and sorcery. Guided by generations of accumulated understanding of the world's fundamental nature, they had raised towering structures of steel and concrete from the earth, formed nation-states as their units of civilization, and used their creations of iron and fire to wage war on monsters, claiming dominion over most of the known world. It was humanity's most radiant and most powerful age — yet even at the height of that brilliance, the Civilization Era had quietly drawn its curtain closed. No one knew what had happened. The people of that time had vanished without a trace. Their civilization of steel and concrete had been swallowed by vines and wilderness, leaving behind only scattered texts and ruins scattered across the world, monuments for later generations to gaze upon and contemplate a glory long since extinguished.

As one enormous gear-laden mechanical construct after another in the room stirred to life for the first time in a thousand years, the familiar sensation of weightlessness followed close behind. Lifted by the antigravity device, Alice's naked body rose into the air. Then from the ceiling — long overgrown with nameless herbs — three mechanical arms of varying sizes descended, each bristling with tubes in a riot of colours. The mechanical claws at the tips of these ugly arms extended in sequence, each one producing a syringe filled with a pale green, odorless liquid.

Two of the arms, identical in size, moved with precision to Alice's chest. The third, somewhat smaller, made its way to her perineum. These cold iron things, however, had absolutely no concept of gentleness. Their claws seized her breasts and clitoris with rough efficiency, then drove the syringes at their centres directly into her mammary glands and clitoris without ceremony.

Mmh~

Alice let out a soft, pained moan as the mechanical claws clamped hard around her breasts and clitoris, but the antigravity device left her with no ability whatsoever to move her body. She could only watch in silence as the liquid in the syringes was pushed into her body drop by drop. These specialized solutions had been formulated by Alice herself using equipment in another room of the ruin, and their effects were numerous: skin optimization, bone optimization, full-body hair removal, muscle-to-fat conversion, fat redistribution, expansion of erogenous zones across the entire body, heightened sensitivity — all with no side effects whatsoever. The modifications to her body were also fully reversible; a separate injection could restore her to her original state.

Under the influence of these custom solutions now circulating through her body, Alice began to feel a growing heat in her breasts and clitoris. The surrounding nerves sent screaming signals — a pain like something was about to burst — and that terrible burning sensation kept spreading outward through her limbs and torso, gradually amplifying the sensitivity of erogenous zones throughout her entire body. Meanwhile, all the hair on her body began falling away indiscriminately, and her already-fine skin grew progressively smoother and more porcelain-white.

Then the modest amount of muscle Alice had maintained through ordinary exercise was almost entirely converted into soft fat by the serum, leaving only the bare minimum required to keep her body functioning. Her waist contracted until it was barely a hand span wide. Her breasts and buttocks, however, moved in the opposite direction — the fat there suddenly began to proliferate, growing larger and larger while becoming simultaneously rounder and more pert, conforming to every conventional ideal of a voluptuous female form. Worth noting were the changes occurring in less conspicuous places: Alice's nipples and clitoris, still skewered by needles, had long since surpassed any size that could be called normal for a woman, swelling into grotesque protrusions as thick as three thumbs pressed together.

In less time than it takes to drink a cup of tea, the golden-haired beauty who had been lovely and shapely but unremarkable was gone entirely. In her place stood a gorgeous wanton: hairless from head to toe, without so much as eyebrows, her chest adorned with two magnificent breasts the size of small watermelons, and a pair of big, beautifully shaped buttocks so prominent they severely impeded movement. Of course, every modification Alice had made to her body at this stage was deliberate — all in preparation for what was to come.

With the physical modifications complete, every mechanical construct in the room began faithfully executing the next phase of the pre-programmed sequence. The three mechanical arms retracted into the ceiling and were replaced by several steel flexible tubes, each tipped with a spray nozzle and loaded with large quantities of black nano-latex liquid. Under the program's guidance, these tubes began coating every inch of Alice's exposed skin with a fine, even spray of black nano-latex. This nano-latex behaved like a second skin — the moment it contacted human skin, it adhered tightly, with a powerful bonding force. However, once a layer of nano-latex had already adhered to a body part, subsequent layers would bond far less effectively, and the thicker the existing latex layer, the weaker new latex would cling.

Because of this peculiar property, any part of Alice's body where the nano-latex already exceeded one millimetre in thickness would attract no further material. When those areas were sprayed again, the newly applied latex — lacking sufficient adhesion — would slide off her latex-clad body like water, draining away into the recessed drainage channels of the antigravity platform. This meant that the latex layer coating Alice was not only extremely thin — thin enough that her sensitivity was not diminished in the slightest — but also perfectly uniform and beautiful.

When the second phase drew to a close, Alice was lowered back to the ground by the antigravity device, given a brief chance to catch her breath. Limited by the black latex now enveloping her entire body, Alice's world was almost completely dark, and she could see nothing for the moment. But she could still feel her own hands — touch undiminished despite the nano-latex coating — exploring her body, letting her imagination conjure the shameful image she must present.

From a bystander's perspective, the Alice before them had become an almost perfect latex doll. She appeared to be wearing a flawless, full-coverage latex suit — and this garment of extraordinary material had temporarily fused with her original skin, becoming one with it. It was durable enough that no technology or magic of the current era could damage it by so much as a hair before Alice used the ruin's assembly platform to remove it, yet it was also lightweight and breathable, functionally almost identical to her natural skin. However, — precisely because the nano-latex was so perfectly breathable — every inch of Alice's body was wrapped completely and airtightly in latex, with only three essential openings left exposed to the air. These three openings were: her little mouth (latex having covered even her lips), the back entrance of her rear, and her vagina including the urethra. Not only that — this extremely thin latex suit, while preserving breathability, was also remarkably faithful to every detail of her anatomy. Even Alice's thick, erect nipples jutting from the front of her breasts and the large, slightly parted clitoris above her vagina — already modified to grotesque proportions — were clearly encased in latex and plainly visible through it.

Time waits for no one. The brief rest Alice had allowed herself for recovery vanished in an instant, and soon the third phase of her transformation began. The antigravity platform lifted her back into the air, and those mechanical arms — seemingly cumbersome and heavy but in truth capable of surprisingly delicate precision — took up a succession of indecent implements and began fitting them to Alice one by one.

First was a metal collar. This was a deeply humiliating thing — a matte-black metal collar hung with a small brass bell. On the front of the collar was mounted a small camera, which, once the mechanical claw locked it around Alice's slender neck, automatically synced with her own brainwaves, allowing her to perceive the outside world through this lens. Of course, the limited range of motion of the neck — and its near-inability to tilt up or down — meant Alice's field of view was far narrower than it had ever been when she used her own eyes, leaving vast blind spots she couldn't avoid.

But at least she could see something. Regaining sight, Alice mentally surveyed the ruin chamber around her — though her viewpoint was now considerably lower, and the lower portion of her field of view was blocked by her own enormous latex breasts, leaving her with only a small window onto the world.

Not yet used to the collar-camera's perspective, Alice reflexively turned her head to try to capture more of her surroundings, quickly realized her mistake, and corrected herself. Just then, through the camera on her neck, she caught sight of the next implement already being slowly carried toward her by a mechanical arm.

The second implement was a black latex corset, its interior reinforced with a rigid boning structure. Under the mechanical arm's precise, careful operation, this custom corset was quickly cinched around Alice's already handspan-small waist, compressing it further into something even more impossibly svelte — a silhouette so extreme in proportion to her enormous breasts and buttocks that she had begun to look less like a real person and more like a perfectly engineered artificial object.

Not only that — once this corset was forced onto her, Alice lost essentially all ability to bend at the waist. Her obscenely large breasts were now permanently held at full attention, further constricting her field of view while causing their movement to become even more exaggerated and unrestrained with every step. The effect made the current Alice look simultaneously debauched and thoroughly pathetic.

Before Alice could even gasp for air against the corset's compression, a third implement arrived immediately after — three metal rings, each threaded with a small ball. Alice knew perfectly well what was about to happen, so she drew a deep breath and endured the sharp discomfort as the mechanical arms mercilessly threaded these three heavy little rings through her body, nano-latex and all — one through each of her thick nipples, and one through the large clitoris that resembled nothing so much as an infant's little penis. The piercing drew no blood, but if she could have, Alice would have preferred to close her eyes and not watch it happen. She had no such option, relying entirely on the camera to see the world. She couldn't even look away. She was already beginning to taste, in the most preliminary sense, the helplessness of being a toy.

With the rings in place, the third part of her transformation neared its end. A pair of black latex ballet heel boots, measuring what appeared by eye to be eighteen centimetres, were slowly drawn up Alice's slender, shapely legs by the mechanical claw and locked at the upper thigh, below the knee, and at the ankle. Wearing these absurd heels would be a genuinely harrowing ordeal for any woman — Alice's feet were pressed to a near-vertical angle against the ground, and walking had become an extremely difficult task, to say nothing of running at speed or performing any meaningful movement. But perhaps that was fitting. A latex doll's only obligation is to be used by her master like an object.

Once Alice had been fitted with these heels — more severe than shackles — three large artificial penises arrived in turn, each shaped differently, and positioned by mechanical arms at her mouth, vagina, and rear entrance respectively.

First was the hollow penis-shaped gag for her mouth. To call it penis-shaped was generous — it was more accurately a reverse mould of the human oral cavity. Pressed little by little into Alice's mouth, it conformed with perfect fidelity to every surface inside, including her teeth, and pinned her tongue flat against her lower jaw. It left not a single cubic centimetre of space inside her mouth, and simultaneously stripped her of language. The hollow interior of this gag was shaped in the form of an exaggerated female vagina, a refined canal that replaced Alice's original oral cavity and would offer any recipient of a blowjob an extraordinary experience. Though if said recipient, lacking any handhold, could only grip Alice's latex skull to thrust — that might strike some as inelegant.

Fortunately, Alice had anticipated this. As part of designing herself as a latex doll, she had thoughtfully provided two straight-handled grips for any potential violator — one on each side of her latex-covered cheeks. Should Alice in her doll form find herself in a situation where someone chose to use her, this meant they would expend considerably less effort taming her. And this consideration for the convenience of others hardly ended there: along Alice's slender back and on both outer thighs she had likewise provided pairs of handles — corresponding to her shameful little pussy and her insatiable rear — though these were not the straight cylindrical style of the facial handles but rather a half-square grip shape, more ergonomic for sustained use.

The exterior of the gag — the portion left outside Alice's mouth — was shaped like a pair of full, vivid red female lips. From either corner, latex straps extended and locked together at the back of her latex-covered head. At this, the gag became completely integrated with Alice's latex suit, and would not separate from her poor little mouth until she triggered the specific condition she had programmed in. Until then, she was absolutely forbidden from communicating with any other human through language — beyond that, she couldn't even close her mouth.

Following the gag came an anal plug, nothing particularly unusual about it except that it, too, was hollow inside, with an internal structure identical to the gag's — a realistic, enhanced female vaginal channel, designed for the pleasure of its user. The external portion of the plug — the part left outside her rear entrance — was shaped to fill Alice's entire cleft with the convincing likeness of female genitalia, detailed enough to pass for real. Alice could even control the tightening and releasing of her sphincter to adjust the degree of clitoral erection and vaginal dilation on this false vulva at her rear.

Compared to this relatively simple anal plug, the solid vaginal plug inserted into Alice's lower body was considerably more sophisticated. Like the anal plug, it featured functions for random vibration and random thrusting, and once inserted into Alice's tight, inexperienced vagina it would automatically fuse with the latex bodysuit, impossible to remove except through the ruin's assembly platform. But where it differed was in an exterior design reminiscent of a chastity lock, complete with a custom-made miniature keyhole. Only when a specific key was inserted would the gag in Alice's mouth automatically disengage — with one interesting catch: Alice had programmed it so that any key coming within one meter of the keyhole would forcibly activate every device on her body, triggering all thrusting and vibration functions simultaneously. Should the key be fully inserted into the keyhole, that intensity would double — and only if the key remained inserted for a continuous ten minutes would Alice's gag finally unlock.

At last, all three phases of Alice's full-body transformation were complete. Six mechanical arms descended from the ceiling, each fitted with a laser engraving device, directing fine beams at the toy before them. On Alice's shoulders, the sides of her thighs, and each breast, they printed manufacturer's stamps of varying sizes — the date that every toy ought to carry:

Mageblade Era, Year 132, the Month of Abundant Stars, the 14th day.

With this, it was official. Alice had been fully and completely transformed from an exceptionally poised young woman in the prime of her life into a lewd, latex pleasure-doll — a toy for anyone and everyone to use as they pleased.

The full moon hung high in the night sky like a bright mirror held against black velvet, and tonight was a rare clear night, not a cloud in sight, the moon free to pour its pale light down upon the earth below — gilding the trees, the grass, the lake, and the peculiar latex figure picking her way through the forest — all of it dusted with a white frost of moonlight. And yes, Alice, having transformed herself into a latex pleasure-slave doll, was making her way through the woods at a brisk pace. The silver light falling on her black nude body reflected a gleaming, latex-shining radiance of something altogether indecent. It was a strange and otherworldly sight.

A gentle evening breeze wove between every tree in the forest, coaxing different leaves into different voices, mixing with the intermittent singing of insects and birds to compose a symphony that belonged to no human world. Beautiful as it was, a forest after dark was extremely dangerous territory for any human — something Alice only fully grasped once she had left the ruin and the night air had cleared her lust-addled head. The moonlight was bright, and the camera on her collar had some night-vision capability, but Alice's world was still distressingly dim. She could just barely make out the ground at her feet. Her enormously oversized breasts and thick buttocks threw off her centre of gravity badly, making every step she took a wobbling, lurching ordeal — something made dramatically worse by the absence of her arms. And of course, her feet were encased in a pair of tight, elongated ballet heel boots.

Her arms, naturally, had not been lost to any accident on the road. It was simply that Alice, while still in the ruin, had judged that keeping her arms would drop the difficulty too precipitously, robbing her of much of the fun. So in the interest of a more satisfying experience, she had used the ruin's spatial transfer technology to temporarily leave her arms behind in one of the biological containment pods. In their place, on either side of her collarbones, were two smooth, flat spatial interface ports, their centres faintly emitting a barely visible blue luminescence. Right now, however, stumbling and lurching with nearly every step, Alice desperately wished the ruin had time-travel technology. If it did, she would go back and slap herself in the face twice — hard — for the sheer idiocy of amputating her own arms for the sake of entertainment. Without arms, she couldn't even crawl back on all fours.

Alice let out a long, muffled mmph through the gag sealing her mouth, and kept fighting to control her stupid, lowly toy-body as it staggered along a forest path carpeted with dead leaves. She was beginning to have some regrets. This was not, by any means, her first time using the ruin's technology to turn herself into a debauched latex doll — but she had never before left the relative safety of the ruin while in her toy state. She had done so this time because she wanted to spend her eighteenth birthday at home in a rather different way, and she had planned for this excursion carefully, doing everything possible to minimize the chance of mishap. Her circumstances were nonetheless far from ideal. Constrained by her narrow field of vision, she had paid no attention at all to what was happening behind her — a colossal shadow lurking in the tall grass about a hundred meters back, following her stumbling progress and biding its time.

“Mmph~, mm, mmmph~ (Haah~, I can't, I'm exhausted, I can't take it any more, these latex tits weigh a ton.)”

After another ten or so minutes of gruelling progress, Alice had finally had enough. She panted heavily through the hollow gag in her mouth, her overfull chest heaving dramatically. Without arms, the only way to rest was to find a suitably thick tree to lean against, and there happened to be one not far ahead. So Alice forced her already faintly trembling legs into motion once more and made for the tree.

But between her dim field of view and the obstruction of her own enormous breasts, she failed to notice a tree root protruding from the soil — and tripped over it. Her first instinct was to throw out her hands to catch herself, but her empty arms could do nothing for her. Before she'd even had time to process what was happening, she had completed an intimate reunion with the earth, the cushion between her debauched body and the solid ground being — inevitably — those two great latex mounds on her chest, and in particular the fat, pierced nipples at their centres. The tremendous impact against the ground delivered a jolt of pleasure so intense and so immediate that every muscle in Alice's body — rigid with shock a moment before — dissolved at once, leaving her sprawled in the leaves like a puddle.

“Mmph, mmmph (Mmh~ What rotten… rotten luck, though at least I didn't twist my ankle. That split second of pleasure was honestly better than anything I've ever given myself by hand.)”

Beneath the black latex mask, Alice's face had gone crimson — though she couldn't afford to simply lie there in the middle of the forest. If she wasn't home before sunrise, whoever found her would surely drag her off to the slave market and put her up for auction. But without arms, even something as simple as getting up off the ground was an ordeal. She tried several times without success, growing increasingly frustrated with herself, though she knew perfectly well that panic would only make things worse. She forced herself to relax, lying there on the ground breathing deeply until she had completely settled her emotions, then tried again.

This time Alice chose a slow, methodical approach. She began with her buttocks raised in an utterly humiliating pose — face and breasts pressed against the ground as her only points of support — and gradually lifted her hips higher, inch by inch. Once her legs were free, she bent her knees and knelt upright, lifting her upper body from the ground. Shameful as the position was, from here she only needed to push off with her lower legs to stand. She did. Her calves tensed with the last of their strength, then drove upward, and Alice — fighting for balance — managed to stand.

She hadn't even had time to savour her small triumph when a buzzing sound drifted into her ears. There were bee-type monsters in this forest, but the buzz was not from them — it was coming from between her legs, from her latex-wrapped lower body. The sound arrived without warning, and though it wasn't loud, in the open quiet of the forest it was quite audible enough to the sensitive ears of the monsters in the area — even the great shadow that had been following Alice was startled, presumably not having expected this matte-black latex humanoid to produce anything of the sort.

What had activated was only the anal plug inside Alice's rear, but even so it was enough to buckle her knees and send her tumbling back down onto the carpet of dead leaves. Her rear passage, modified by her own custom serums, was in terms of sheer sensitivity actually more reactive than a normal woman's vagina — virtually every fold of her intestinal walls was packed with nerve endings. To put it plainly, even using the toilet now would deliver Alice considerable pleasure. The ruin's technology had ensured, at least for the duration of her time as a latex toy, that there would be no waste products to contend with.

“Mmmmph~, mm…mmmph! (Alice's ass is so itchy, the vibrations…are completely useless, ugh, harder, I need it harder, haah~, that's good, ahh~ ahhh, mmh~, this is, this is so much better than…mmh~…than when I used my fingers…even better than that~!)”

The anal plug buzzed and throbbed as it made slow, squirming micro-thrusts inside Alice's sensitive rear, tiny sparks of pleasure successfully stirring her arousal — yet never quite enough, like scratching an itch through a boot. She felt as if a cat's paw were gently raking inside her chest, and she was completely powerless to do anything about it. Without arms, there was no way to bring herself any relief.

But the plug seemed to hear her inner plea. The vibration intensity and thrusting frequency gradually increased — like a high-performance pile driver, hammering her most sensitive zones again and again. Alice had no prostate as men do, but the nerve-dense walls of her intestinal passage more than made up for the difference. Savage pleasure assaulted her nerves in wave after wave, flushing her face and quickening her breath — even producing a faint sense of near-suffocation behind the obstruction of the gag.

Yet as the pleasure in her rear grew more intense, the emptiness between her legs grew more acute. That formless void came from her soaking pussy, which had begun to drool despite already being plugged with a thick vaginal toy. But this motionless, inert thing was nothing compared to the plug in her rear that was running wild — Alice's slutty folds of labia worked hungrily under their latex covering, opening and closing, desperate to provoke some reaction from the “indifferent” vaginal plug nestled between them.

What answered Alice was a vibration — but not from the vaginal plug she had been pleading with. Instead, it was her clitoris that responded — that enormous thing, pierced like an ox's nose with a metal ring, swelling to something like a baby's penis. The ring had begun resonating with the anal plug's rhythm, working in alternating concert to torment Alice's degenerate flesh, doubling the pleasure while making the emptiness inside her feel more unbearable than ever.

“Mmph~, mmmph…mmmph! (Mmh~, it feels so good, but, my filthy pussy is so itchy~ haah~, help, Alice is going to break~!)”

The amber eyes hidden beneath the nano-latex had already begun rolling back under the force of the pleasure. Fragrant saliva spilled freely through the false vagina in the gag, and in this soul-dissolving intensity of sensation, Alice was unquestionably the passive party — she had surrendered all authority over her own body. She was trembling all over now, thrashing against the ground in meaningless, instinctive struggle. Her half-deranged state, combined with the unceasing buzz emanating from her body, gave the lurking shadow pause when it moved to investigate. It retreated cautiously back into the darkness — its intelligence, modest compared to a human's, was utterly unable to classify the threat level of this black thing it had never once encountered in a century of existence. It needed to observe further.

After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Alice — pushed to the very edge of climax by the two devices working in tandem — felt her body, taut as a bowstring, suddenly go slack after a wave of full-body electricity that was not especially strong but spread to every extremity. She went entirely limp, collapsing flat on her back on the ground like a boneless thing, utterly motionless. Had her chest not continued to heave with the desperate need for air, even the shadow lurking in the dark might have thought she had lost consciousness.

It was over — after nearly half an hour of torment, Alice had finally come, in a long, rushing wave of emptiness. The honour of being the final straw had gone to the small electrical charge built into the ring piercing her clitoris. Though calibrated only for teasing rather than shock, it had served as the decisive kick that sent Alice over the edge, causing her pussy to discharge an involuntary gush of arousal fluid. The slightly viscous liquid would have been a potent aphrodisiac to any man, but instead it was expelled through the nano-latex's repellent properties, squeezed out through Alice's skin, and dripped down the smooth latex coating her body to the dirty ground below, making a modest contribution to the greenery of the Mageblade Era.

The once-bright full moon had begun to dim, having crossed that invisible median line dividing the eastern and western halves of the sky — signalling that the night was more than half over. The time remaining for Alice was running short. If she failed to return to her small courtyard home in town before sunrise, the rest of her life would not be pleasant.

Some time had passed since that last miserable climax — hollow and unsatisfying, leaving Alice hungry for more. She had managed to recover a little strength, and once again used that same shameful manoeuvre to haul herself off the ground. Her whole body still ached, and both latex-clad legs were so exhausted they could barely carry her — yet the relentless pressure of time forced Alice to ignore her body's protests and keep pressing forward.

At least, as the trees gradually thinned in her blurry field of view and low shrubs grew more frequent, the edge of the town beginning to appear in organized rows of farmland, Alice was not far from home. She could just make out, through the camera on her collar, the faint glow of lights from the town ahead. But before any hint of relief could form in her chest, several of those wavering lights began to grow noticeably larger in her field of view.

No — the lights weren't growing. Someone was carrying torches, and they were approaching.

Alice's mind went momentarily blank with alarm, but she managed to react before she was seen, carefully dropping to her knees in a nearby thicket and, like an ostrich, pressing her smooth latex head against her enormous latex breasts, the full weight of those two great mounds squashing against the space between her face and her thighs.

Running was completely out of the question. Setting aside the preposterous breasts and buttocks that severely hampered her movement, those eighteen-centimetre ballet heel boots alone made it impossible for her to outrun any creature with a full complement of limbs at night in the forest. This terrible combination of restraints had cut off every possible route of escape.

“Captain, I don't know what command is thinking — it's just a few tusk-boars that tore up some fields on the edge of town, do we really need to pull multiple shifts of all-night patrol for that?”

A young blond man of about seventeen or eighteen lifted his torch with one hand, pulled aside his trousers with the other, and relieved himself against a stout tree nearby, voice carrying the complaint with casual indifference — not knowing that just a few steps away, beyond the reach of his torchlight in the darkness, a crumpled latex figure crouched in a dense thicket, shaking.

The blond's laziness earned him a sharp smack to the head almost immediately, delivered by the middle-aged man behind him — one-eyed, with a full beard. No need to state the obvious: this was the captain the young man had mentioned.

“What would a little punk who hasn't finished growing know about anything? Do you think command is genuinely afraid the tusk-boars are going to sneak back at night and steal our crops? Haven't you heard — the hunting party sent to deal with those boars got poached on by a Great Silver Wolf? My nephew's in the hunting party, and he said that wolf's shoulder came up to a man's chest just lying down. No one has any idea what tier monster it is or where it crawled out of — if our hunters hadn't been sharp as foxes and oiled their boots and ran, who knows how many would have made it back. So all of you little punks had better stay sharp. If you actually run into that wolf near town, don't say a word, just run. Run as fast as you can and get back to town to report it alive.”

With that confirmed from the captain's own mouth, the five-man patrol unit transformed entirely. The earlier languor vanished — every man was suddenly alert and bright-eyed. These clever little punks had clearly been feigning sluggishness to bait information out of their captain, and none more obviously than the blond complainer, who now looked as sharp and eager as an owl, his short sword dancing between his fingers, practically itching for an adventure worth bragging about.

Their excitement, naturally, did not spread to Alice, still curled in her thicket. She was in genuine misery. The nano-latex protected her two enormous breasts admirably, but it had not blunted her sense of touch, and countless branches inside the dense shrubs were pressing into her latex-clad mounds from every angle. The two large nipple rings had caught on the branches at some point and were being tugged this way and that, rustling and scraping — delivering pleasure no less vivid than a man's rough hands squeezing her hard. Alice felt her barely-suppressed arousal beginning to build again.

And it didn't stop there. Afraid of her breasts being prodded by still more branches, Alice had stayed frozen in the thicket for a long stretch without moving — with the result that the abundant insects of the forest had begun to treat her enormous, elevated latex breasts like a towering mountain range, climbing up onto her sensitive skin. Countless tiny legs treading across latex-wrapped flesh multiplied Alice's pleasure several times over, and as the stimulation grew and her pussy below grew correspondingly wetter, more and more insects were drawn in by the scent. The dense, rapid prickling of their claws and mouthparts against her skin drove Alice to let out muffled, involuntary moans through her gag.

She knew perfectly well that even her quietest sounds were increasing the risk of discovery — but in this many-ants-gnawing-the-heart sensation she simply could not stop herself. So she prayed, desperately and silently, that these men would leave quickly and not find her.

The heavens, as they so often do, declined to cooperate. A familiar buzzing chose precisely this moment to resume, and this time it was the vibrator in Alice's pussy that decided to join the party.

Alice clamped her thighs together with everything she had, fighting to suppress the enormous sensation radiating from the toy inside her, squeezing the sensitive inner walls of her vagina against the plug in an attempt to muffle the sound. It was a stupid idea. Aside from delivering her even more unbearable pleasure, it accomplished absolutely nothing — in the silence of the open forest, even the faintest buzz was impossible to conceal from any human with functioning ears. The patrol still lingering nearby heard it.

“What's that?”

The one-eyed patrol captain barked in the direction of Alice's hiding spot, and his well-drilled unit instantly arranged itself into a simple combat formation with him at the centre.

“Mmph! (D-damn… I've been, mmh~, been found. I need to, need to run…)”

The moment she felt the vibrator inside her pussy begin its frantic thrusting, Alice knew she was finished. She tried immediately to get up and flee — but between terror, pleasure, and the numbness from having knelt so long, her legs had completely ceased to function. She was like a mouse caught in a cat's gaze: all she could do was wait silently for her fate.

“Aidan, something seems off here. Go check it out.”

The experienced patrol captain, sensing something wrong beyond the unceasing buzz from the dense thicket, gave a look and signalled the blond youth called Aidan to move forward and investigate carefully.

Aidan, by nature cautious and sharp-minded, immediately accepted the borrowed round shield from the comrade beside him and moved with his short sword toward the source of the sound.

Five meters.

Two meters.

One meter — Aidan had stepped into the thicket and was standing directly in front of Alice. But without a torch, he still couldn't make out the figure crouched below him in the dark, dressed head to toe in pure-black nano-latex and merged completely with the shadows. The open sprawl of the forest made it hard to pinpoint the buzz, and he could only probe the dense shrubs blindly with his sword.

Alice knew perfectly well that continuing to hide would only end badly for her. As the surrounding shrubbery rustled toward her one branch at a time, it was only a matter of moments before the scout would discover her there — kneeling on the ground, supported by her breasts, covered in crawling insects, curled into a ball. She desperately needed to think of a way out of this. But before her admittedly intelligent brain had managed to produce anything useful, a cold, rod-shaped object had already made contact with her soft latex buttocks.

Aidan's sword.

She'd been found.

“What is this…?”

Aidan felt his sword touch something soft and yielding — nothing like a fragile shrub. He stepped carefully closer, but the darkness was too deep for him to see what he'd found. He was just about to call back to his team for a torch when a high, keening howl tore through the entire forest.

A massive silver-white monster wolf, hurtling toward him from fifty paces out.

The Silver Moon Demon Wolf that had poached the town's hunting party — this was the great shadow that had been trailing Alice since she left the ruin. It had followed her all this way without ever managing to determine what this latex-wrapped entity actually was. Its genetic memory held no record of a “creature” like this, and its keen sense of smell detected no meat-scent it recognized from Alice, so even as it had followed her almost to the town's edge, it had not attacked. But now a careless human had wilfully separated himself from the safety of his group and walked directly into its effective hunting range. A born predator could not pass up an opportunity like this. It surged forward.

“It's the silver wolf! Aidan, fall back!”

The patrol captain's eyes went wide. He swelled with muscle, his chain mail suddenly taut across his chest, and raised his magically reinforced great shield as he charged — arriving in front of a stunned Aidan just ahead of the massive wolf, bracing deep and meeting the Silver Moon Wolf's lunge dead-on.

“Move! Use your Gale Scrolls and scatter!”

The patrol captain deflected the wolf's devastating strike with a shield bash, bellowed the order, shoved the still-dazed Aidan into motion, flung aside the now-shattered enchanted great shield, and was the first to tear open a scroll that shimmered with pale blue light — picking a direction and vanishing at a dead sprint. The remaining four, Aidan included, immediately followed suit, each tearing a Gale Scroll and scattering in different directions.

“Aooo~!”

The Silver Moon Wolf threw its head back and howled in fury. That damned blue light. Its not-particularly-impressive brain dimly recalled that the humans from a few days ago had also escaped through exactly this sort of blue light. This time, however, it had no intention of simply giving up. It felt a shimmer of luminescence ripple through its coat, like moonlight cascading down silver fur, flooding its entire body in an instant — and it fixed on the blond youth who had just slipped away from it, launched into acceleration, and gave chase at a speed that actually exceeded the Gale Scroll's own.

“Mmph? (They… they're all gone?)”

The vibration in her lower body had stopped at some point. Alice crawled out of the thicket, lurching and unsteady, genuinely unable to believe her luck. The moment Aidan's sword had touched her, she had nearly fainted with fright on the spot — yet the situation had reversed in an instant, and that wolf howl had snatched her back from the brink. She couldn't see a thing from inside the thicket with her vision lodged at collar height, but that didn't stop her from being sincerely grateful to the great wolf. At least she wouldn't be spending the rest of her days as a slave.

Alice steadied her emotions as best she could, then resumed her lurching journey toward town on those punishing latex heels, working her body with each step — swaying her oversized breasts and thick buttocks to manage her centre of gravity, saving just a little more energy, moving just a little faster. She had worked this out over the long miles, this rocking gait. It was far more obscene than anything the town's lewdest prostitute could manage, and every step made the latex on her body squeak audibly — but speed mattered, so she did it anyway.

Because Alice was now running even shorter on time. If that patrol made it back to town and raised the alarm, putting the town on lockdown against the Silver Moon Wolf, she was completely finished. Whatever it took, she had to make it back to her courtyard house before the patrol — or at least before the town went to full alert.

“Mmph. (Haaah~, I'm exhausted. Next time, no matter what…no way I'm doing… haaah~… anything this big again.)”

She shouldered the half-open gate open with her body, and Alice finally escaped back into her own detached little house. Listening to the bells and shouted warnings drifting over from the town, she felt sincere relief flood through her. That had been terrifyingly close. But at least she was safe now.

The safety was temporary. Access to the ruin's interior required a silver card-key, and that card was inside her house. If Alice couldn't get through her front door and retrieve it, she had no way of returning to the ruin, removing the nano-latex bodysuit, or reclaiming her arms — and sooner or later, the townspeople would find her, and she'd end up being sold to some powerful monster hunter as a sex toy.

Alice had mild masochistic tendencies and an addictive latex fixation. Being used and played with at a man's will as his slave — no, thank you, she wanted absolutely no part of that.

So after only a brief rest, Alice made her deliberate way to the front door of her small wooden house within the courtyard. She wasn't going to use a key, of course. She didn't have one. And even if she did — with no arms, a mouth sealed by a gag, and feet crammed into eighteen-centimetre heels — what exactly was she supposed to do with a key?

A debauched sex-toy latex doll cannot open a door in any conventional fashion. Alice had no intention of breaking in either — too much noise, too much risk of drawing attention. She was clever enough to have modified her own front door several days ago in preparation for tonight. On the dark-brown wooden door before her was now mounted a precision instrument she had fabricated in the ruin. Its external form resembled a horizontal knife rack — a slot on each side, sized to accept a rod-shaped object. It was impossible not to think of the straight-handled grips on either side of Alice's latex cheeks, and indeed that was precisely the point.

Alice knelt before the door, presented her backside, lowered her head, and inserted her head into the device, obediently sliding the latex handles on either side of her face into their corresponding slots. The sensitive device registered her insertion immediately, locked the handles into place, and split at the centre — a circular seam appearing — from which a large, pink latex penis slowly extended.

There was no going back now, nor could she — her head was locked into the door. All Alice could do was force her already-fixed latex lips as wide open as possible and, like a well-trained good girl, dedicate her best efforts to servicing the cock before her, working it until it was satisfied, and the door swung open.

The pink latex penis was approximately four centimetres in diameter by visual estimate — beyond the average for a normal man. With the help of the generous saliva pooling in her mouth, it slid in without too much difficulty. Now Alice had only one task: to stimulate the latex cock filling her oral cavity as intensely as her pussy-shaped mouth could manage. The built-in sensor would register cumulative pleasure equivalent to a full adult male orgasm, and then the door would open — but this simple requirement was a genuine ordeal for Alice, who had no sexual experience whatsoever beyond masturbation. Her blowjob technique was, to put it kindly, completely hopeless.

Fortunately, she had the hollow gag's inner channel to help — its near-perfect simulated female vaginal structure giving her at least some chance of stimulating the door's cock to completion despite her hapless technique. The limitation was that even with the latex's own flexibility, her head was locked too firmly in place for large-scale thrusting motions. She could only work at it through small variations in the angle and position of her head.

“Mmph, mmmph, mmph! (This…this damn broken door, why won't it just…open already!)”

Alice knelt in shameful posture on the cold grass in the courtyard, ass high in the air like an obedient bitch, head down, working diligently at the door's plug — and nearly choking herself on her own saliva multiple times for her trouble.

All her life, Alice had carried herself like royalty in the presence of others. She had never once bowed her head before anyone. She would never in a hundred years have allowed herself such indignity as this, and if she had known the night would end like this, she would absolutely never have set any of this in motion — no matter how desperately she'd wanted to celebrate her eighteenth birthday in a blaze of intense and extraordinary sensation. How she longed to just give up now, get to her feet, and walk away. But her head, locked fast into the door, gave her no choice but to keep servicing the infuriating cock in her mouth — and then, perfectly timed as if by malicious fate, the anal plug inside her rear chose this moment to start vibrating again.

Under the sudden violent stimulation from her rear, a dizzy fantasy overtook Alice — someone gripping the handles on her cheeks, pressing her head down, forcing her into a blowjob. The tremendous gap between who she had been — a proud, imperious princess — and what she was now — a degraded bitch — and the accompanying shame and humiliation drove the still-blushing Alice to tears. The excess moisture was expelled without mercy through the nano-latex's repellent property, squeezing out through the black latex coating that encased her entire head at the spots where her eyes ought to have been, then rolling down her gleaming latex cheeks to fall on the grass.

This terrible shock was what finally snapped Alice into action. If she wanted to end this nightmare, there was only one path: keep venting her frustration on the cock in her mouth, and keep going until it was satisfied. She had to step into the role — play the obedient bitch, just long enough to service it to completion. And so, under Alice's diligent but utterly graceless efforts, the pink latex penis finally began to show the first faint hints of a colour shift toward red.

Another cup-of-tea's worth of time passed. Alice was almost completely spent — and the door still showed no sign of opening. She was on the verge of complete despair. And then, while the anal plug was still buzzing without mercy in her rear, the vaginal toy inside her pussy chose to join in as well. Front and back, both devil-toys working in concert, pleasure crashing through Alice with enough force to leave her trembling on her knees. If her mouth hadn't been stuffed full with both the gag and the latex cock, her cries of pleasure would have woken up half the town by now.

Fine, then.

Alice simply gave up. Whether the townspeople found her and branded her a pervert, or whether she was sold to some wealthy dignitary as a warm body to use — she didn't care any more. She was too tired. She stopped trying to expertly pleasure the cock in her mouth. Instead, she began rhythmically squeezing her pussy and rear in time with the vibrations from her two internal toys, trying to satisfy the desperate emptiness inside her and drown out the arousal that was threatening to completely overwhelm her. The door in front of her loomed like an uncrossable divide, splitting the rest of her life clearly in two. Maybe for the rest of her days, she would simply be a limbless latex doll in eighteen-centimetre heels, stuffed full of cocks at every opening. Maybe that's just what I am now, Alice thought distantly. Today was supposed to be her eighteenth birthday — the first day of the best years of her life. Yet because she'd been chasing a rush, her future was now destined to be lived out in darkness, in hunger, between men's bodies. A wave of regret began to rise, unbidden, inside her.

“Alice, Alice, are you home?”

Alice had been spiralling for all of one minute when a loud, booming voice sounded from outside the courtyard gate. Alice — currently kneeling like a dog with two cocks thrusting in and out of her lower body — was jolted back to sharp, immediate alertness. Existential dread, depression, spiralling despair: all of it was instantly kicked into the outer atmosphere. She redoubled her efforts at once, mouth working frantically against the latex cock, with the urgent energy of someone who had found a motor. There was absolutely no way she was letting her uncle see her like this.

“Alice, are you asleep? Why aren't you answering? A monster wolf appeared in town just now — every combatant above the third tier has gone to stop it from doing more damage. I know you usually love an exciting situation, but this time you are absolutely not to go anywhere near it! The town head says that silver wolf is at least tier five! It's extremely dangerous!”

“Hmm, Alice, why isn't the courtyard gate locked? Don't tell me you've already sneaked off to look at the silver wolf? If you don't answer me right now, your uncle is coming in!”

The man bellowing at Alice's little house from beyond the courtyard gate was her uncle, Picel, who ran a sizeable magical goods shop in town — scrolls, runes, alchemical preparations, magical implements, the full range. It was this comfortable income that had allowed him to raise Alice alone from the age of seven when she had lost both parents. His care for her was obvious to anyone who knew them. Tonight, with the town unexpectedly under monster attack, he had organized the shop apprentices with emergency supplies of scrolls and potions and dispatched them to help — then come straight here first, afraid that bold, reckless Alice might get it into her head to go tangle with a wolf for the story. What he could not know, blocked by the high courtyard wall, was that the niece he cherished like a princess was currently wearing a full-coverage latex bodysuit and crouched in the yard like a dead dog, simultaneously enduring two thrusting cocks in her lower body while giving everything she had to service the cock in her mouth.

Hearing that Picel was about to come inside, Alice — struck with sudden panic — remembered that without arms she had no way to bar the courtyard gate, and she was absolutely certain her uncle was not joking. Her desperation shot her blowjob efforts to a new level entirely. In her urgency, she failed to notice that the cock in her mouth had already turned vivid red.

The sound of the courtyard gate swinging open rang out in the darkness. Alice, by now crying with anxiety, suddenly heard a clear, bright click — and the door in front of her opened. The lock released. The door's cock retracted back inside. Alice felt, in that instant, as if she had returned from hell to heaven, and she scrambled and rolled through the doorway into her house without ceremony, the door locking automatically behind her.

“Alice, Alice, are you home? Answer me right now!”

Picel had entered the courtyard. He caught a vague impression of a dark shape — but the night was deep, and he couldn't quite make it out, and instinctively dismissed it as his imagination. He walked up to Alice's front door, frowning at the strange device mounted on it.

As Alice's uncle, Picel was well aware that she'd had a fondness for mechanical contraptions and arcane gadgetry since childhood — though to a man who had witnessed the wonder and grandeur of magic, these things were frankly primitive, the difference between a ditch and an ocean. So while he couldn't identify the device on the door at all, he instinctively regarded it with mild distaste.

“(Haah~, that was so close. Almost finished.)”

The fully latex-encased Alice leaned against the door on the other side, catching her breath, relieved. Her two toys were still going at it, enthusiastically, with no sign of stopping. In the adrenaline surge of the crisis she hadn't really registered them — but now that she was safe, the realization washed over her, and the desire that followed was immediate and total. Everything beyond the door, including Uncle Picel, ceased to exist. It was fortunate that the gag still had her mouth sealed shut, or the sounds she was making would have drifted outside, and even the most oblivious uncle would have had reason to be suspicious.

Picel knocked for a while longer, received no answer, finally frowned, and left. As for exactly when — Alice had only the vaguest impression. She didn't register it at all. Every particle of her attention was fixed on the two vibrating toys filling her vagina and rear. She desperately wanted to be satisfied — to reach a proper, intense climax — but as if fate were working against her, those two toys that had stirred up all this trouble now seemed to quieten after she was safely inside, the vibrations gradually tapering until, apparently unimpressed by Alice's feelings in the matter, they simply stopped altogether. For Alice, who had just worked herself back up to a full boil, it was agony — like finally getting a man into bed, having him spend five minutes rubbing against you with his cock as foreplay, bringing you to absolute panting readiness, and then just… finishing on the spot.

“Mmph, mmm! (No, no…mmh~, how… how is this allowed!)”

Alice clenched and released the muscles around her anal and vaginal passages in frantic, futile cycles, willing the two toys to start up again by force of mind alone. It accomplished nothing. She was beginning to miss her arms — fragile and not much good for heavy lifting, but if they were there, at least she could have used them to squeeze and knead her now-enormous, firmly erect breasts and given her starved body some small comfort. Instead, she was exactly what she appeared to be: a toy that needed someone else to do everything. She could only endure the growing conflagration inside her and the engorged, desperate ache of a clitoris and nipples that were begging to be touched — and do nothing at all.

“Mmph! (No, there must…mmh~…there must be a way!)”

Alice's breathing had grown rapid in sympathy with her increasingly desperate body. She leaned against the door frame and racked her brain. She could feel her intelligence slowly degrading under the pressure of arousal — if this went on much longer, she was going to become a drooling creature whose only thought was cock.

Whether it was her subconscious prompting her or something kinder at work, Alice's mind suddenly hit upon it: the backup key she had left in the hidden room downstairs. The key that, when inserted into the keyhole on her vaginal plug, would unlock the gag in her mouth.

The original plan had been for the town postman to deliver, at noon the next day, a specially designed mechanical chastity lock and the auxiliary equipment for putting it on — and after he left, Alice would use the auxiliary equipment to fasten the lock over her wanton lower body while enduring all of her devices running at full capacity simultaneously, then endure ten full minutes of everything-at-maximum to earn the release of her gag.

The backup key she had stashed was just insurance against lost mail or a late delivery. It wasn't a chastity lock, just the key itself. But with the situation what it was, Alice would simply have to use the backup to take care of things.

Alice was, above all, a person of decisive action. Drawing on sheer willpower, she temporarily suppressed her body's screaming demands and set off in her pert little rolling gait — unsteady, but moving — up the stairs to the second floor.

Climbing stairs in eighteen-centimetre heels was hard enough in good conditions, never mind without arms, with breasts and buttocks that caught on everything, and empty space where both arms should have been. Alice was reduced to bracing against the banister and dragging herself up one step at a time.

She couldn't, of course, store any of these implements anywhere that Picel or her friends might conceivably stumble across them. So she had sealed off one room on the second floor entirely as her private sanctum, accessible only through the large wardrobe in her bedroom.

After the ordeal of the stairs, Alice finally reached the wardrobe — red cedar, unusual and large. Its back panel connected directly to the sealed room. She lifted one heel, used the narrow stiletto tip with careful precision to pull open the wardrobe's lower drawers in a specific sequence, and the thick back panel split cleanly down the middle, revealing the hidden room behind it. When she'd been setting up the mechanism, she had considered fingerprint recognition, specific voice commands — she'd even had the brief, creative notion of using a cast of her own vagina as the key. Thankfully, she'd thought better of it, considered exactly this sort of scenario — herself transformed into a latex doll — and settled on something simple and reliable: drawer sequence. Otherwise, she'd be reaping a very bitter harvest tonight.

With the door open, Alice bent her knees, knelt down, and crawled through the wardrobe, carefully crossing the soft folded clothes and stepping into her sanctum. The room was stocked with latex garments, heel boots, dildos, and various prosthetics — anything she could put on and take off without the ruin's help, for the times when a trip to the ruins was inconvenient. Not as satisfying as the ruin's modifications, obviously, but something was better than nothing.

As Alice stepped inside, light-rune engravings in the ceiling activated through a mechanical sensor, releasing a soft, steady glow that filled the compact room. And there, at the far end, Alice saw it immediately: the enormous latex mechanical throne.

The latex throne before her, built through a combination of magic and mechanics, was arguably the most ambitious thing she had ever created. Since she hadn't seriously anticipated actually using the backup key when she designed the room, the Alice who had built this had decided, in a fit of inspired enthusiasm, to simply mount the backup key directly onto this thing. As for exactly what the throne was capable of — Alice was honestly not entirely sure. It had been built in a state of severe brain-fog, and she could only vaguely recall having added every humiliating training function she could imagine at the time, one after another. Faced with this “creation” now, Alice felt a vague, inexplicable unease.

Beneath her latex-encased breasts, Alice's heart was hammering — excitement or fear, she couldn't quite tell. Her rational mind told her clearly that mounting this throne recklessly would have serious consequences, almost certainly far more humiliating than crawling at the door like a dog a few minutes ago. But the desire inside her, relentless and growing louder, issued its orders: discard all worldly dignity, ascend the throne, and claim her birthright as a true latex slave-queen.

Alice's internal war raged briefly. But the last scraps of her rationality were outmatched by a desire that wasn't going to stop. Like someone under a spell, she stepped forward, each footfall of her latex heels ringing out in the small room, moving slowly toward the throne that gleamed with its unmistakable latex sheen.

Her enormously widened buttocks might have made a normal chair impossible, but the natural elasticity of latex let her force herself in regardless. The squeeze of latex-on-latex produced a thoroughly obscene squeak — and the instant her oversized rear was fully seated and locked into the sofa-shaped throne, the entire apparatus came to life as if awakening.

The peculiar throne seemed to partially melt, portions of it shifting and reshaping, latex extensions shooting out from all sides like restraints — clasping Alice's ankles, her waist, and all three of the handles on her latex body, stripping her of any possibility of leaving.

Alice muffled a couple of useless mmphs through her stuffed mouth and squirmed, trying to pull free — and quickly realized her latex suit had apparently merged completely with the throne beneath her. She was like someone mortared into a soft wall. Aside from the faint ability to rock her breasts forward, she had no more meaningful movement left.

That small freedom didn't last long, either. A pair of mechanical arms emerged from behind the throne, and two bowl-shaped black latex cups slammed against Alice's full breasts — encasing them like an extraordinarily thick latex brassiere, completing her absolute restraint. Inside the cups, at the position of her nipples, she felt dense arrays of small mechanical components engage — tugging at the nipple rings while simultaneously pressing against her engorged tips, beginning to rotate and vibrate, countless small granulated silicone nodules grinding furiously against her sensitive nipples. Alice let out a series of muffled mmphs of pleasure, her body beginning to shiver involuntarily with a pleasure both familiar and wholly new.

The thick latex brassiere kneaded and worked Alice's enormous, full breasts like two powerful hands, and her swollen, engorged nipples were assailed from every direction simultaneously by the granulated latex, grinding without pause. The shivering of her body only increased the stimulation, pleasure multiplying with every tremor. Just as Alice was beginning to sink into this strange bliss, a crash sounded behind her and jolted her partly back to her senses. Her restricted field of view gave her no way to see behind herself. She could only feel the wall behind her apparently splitting open. And then — hazily — she remembered something, and what she remembered made her go frantic. She began fighting the throne's restraints with everything she had.

Alice — throne and all — was carried by several large mechanical arms out through the gap that had opened in the wall of the second-floor hidden room, like a cuckoo clock's bird emerging on the hour. Due to the elevation, Alice now had a commanding view over nearly half the town. And simultaneously, anyone in that half of the town who happened to look up would have a clear view of the latex doll locked to a latex throne, suspended from the side of the building — a display fit for the most shameless of courtesans. Alice knew the throne's activation had simultaneously engaged a shadow-concealment spell, and she could not actually be seen — but she still wanted to die of embarrassment. She had never once imagined encountering her closest friends, her neighbours, her uncle, in the form of a latex doll, and right now, she wanted to strangle the version of herself who had programmed this sequence.

The humiliation didn't get to develop for long. Once the chair had presented Alice to the open air, a large latex cock — soft, elastic, covered in small beads — rose silently from the throne beneath her, gently forced open the false vaginal passage inside the anal plug, and pressed inch by inch into her body. Alice's rear, already housing the hollow anal plug, could accommodate this additional intruder with ease after the ruin's modifications. Between the continuing nipple stimulation and the gradual stretch of entry, the pain, and pleasure of insertion were both somewhat muted — and once the cock was fully seated, Alice was surprised to find herself already hungry for more.

That complacency was quickly, severely corrected. Having fully buried itself inside her, the cock wasted no time pumping a large quantity of thick, milky-white fluid into Alice's rear passage. This substance, for all its resemblance to semen, was, in fact, a powerful aphrodisiac. Alice's body began to heat rapidly as she absorbed it, her breathing quickening, the occupied passage growing itchy and desperately needy — and so the cock began to thrust, hammering the false vaginal walls inside Alice's rear, striking her female equivalent of a prostate — the vestigial residue unique to women — producing faint, teasing flickers of pleasure just strong enough to drive Alice insane. She could only writhe and squirm inside her restraints, chasing more.

“Mmph, mmm! (Not enough, mmh~, nowhere near enough, I need…more~!)”

Even as the fake cock's thrusting frequency steadily climbed, the combination of the anal plug inside her and her nearly-nonexistent prostate left Alice moaning continuously without ever nearing satisfaction. She could only squeeze her thighs together in shame, clenching around the vaginal plug inside her, waiting for whatever the throne chose to give her next.

Finally: a mechanical arm extended from beneath the throne and, without ceremony, hooked Alice's clitoral ring and pulled. Her clitoris — inflated by the ruin's modifications to a full three centimetres — was dragged out like a small penis, and Alice cried out in pain. Then a second arm brought a tight, stroker-shaped latex device and sealed it around Alice's pulled clitoris. The interior was lined with dozens of small latex rollers that immediately began grinding furiously against her hyper-sensitive clit. Alice's composure shattered. She began to wail — meaningless, uncontrolled sounds through the gag — unable to help herself. Was this what it felt like to masturbate as a man? The sensation of ten thousand ants gnawing on her from every angle?

The bustling street below had ceased to exist for Alice. Her entire mind was pleasure and want. Breasts kneaded and reshaped by the latex brassiere, nipples pinned and vibrated against by countless granules as if she were back in the thicket, swollen and over-sensitive; the absurdly long cock in her rear pounding her prostrate again and again; her clitoris, pulled taut and stroked by hundreds of latex rollers, blood rushing in until it throbbed and ached with every rotation — Alice's moans had become incoherent. She was twisting inside the throne's grip, fighting to escape from something she could not escape, and the fighting only made everything worse. Large quantities of salty, slick arousal fluid sprayed from her in pulses, drifting out on the breeze and falling on the town below, and Alice came, and came again, and still, it was not over.

Then another arm rose from the throne — this one balancing, gingerly, that special key.

Alice saw it and went white with alarm. Inserting that key into her pussy would trigger everything on her body to maximum intensity. She would probably be destroyed. Absolutely not.

Sweat-soaked and glassy-eyed, Alice let out a wail of protest. She could not stop the cold metal from being guided into her. The key slid home with a small, soft click, and Alice's experience became something else entirely.

The moment the key entered her, the rings at her nipples and clit began delivering their maximum electrical charge. The vaginal plug and anal plug matched pace — vibration and thrusting accelerating like something driven by a much larger motor. Every remaining device on the throne joined in, attacking Alice's plush body from all sides simultaneously. Every erogenous zone on her body received stimulation at once. She thrashed inside the restraints — desperately, uselessly — and the thrashing only intensified what she received.

The storm obliterated her. Rational thought lasted perhaps a second before being swept completely away. Pleasure crashed through every defence like it was walking through empty air, drowning Alice's latex-wrapped body in a tidal wave of sensation she had absolutely no framework to handle. She truly understood now, in the most visceral possible way, what it meant to be a toy with no agency over her own body. She could only writhe and scream incoherently through the gag — spraying her slick across the town below in a continuous humiliated arc — and come, over and over.

“Mmph~, mmm…mmph! (E-enough, enough, mmh~, stop, haah~, I'm broken…stop fucking me, there's, there's nothing left, ahh~!)”

Alice's desperate, tear-choked pleading received no mercy from the devices inside her. There were still a full five minutes to go. The toys continued their faithful execution of their programmed routines, relentlessly working the already-ruined Alice without pause. Her exhausted, latex-wrapped, hyper-sensitive body had begun to convulse involuntarily under the excess stimulation, her already-raw nerves growing more sensitive still under the merciless mechanical training. The screaming moans had faded into low, continuous keening — not because the pleasure had lessened, but because Alice no longer had the strength for volume.

Another gush of slightly cloudy, clear fluid burst from around the vaginal plug and scattered down on the unsuspecting people below, carrying the unmistakable briny-sweet smell of sex. She came again, barely thirty seconds after the last time.

These were undoubtedly the longest five minutes of Alice's life. She had lost count of how many times she had climaxed, or how much fluid she had expelled in streams across the town. But she knew what she looked like — utterly depraved. If anyone below could see her, she would surely be voted the lewdest woman in the entire history of the Mageblade Era — which would at least drive up her auction price considerably if she were sold to the wealthy and powerful as a pleasure toy.

Hazily, Alice felt as if she had actually become a latex toy — being used simultaneously by several men, passed between them at will. Perhaps this is just where a toy ends up, she thought, with the dull resignation of someone too exhausted to argue. She'd been thoroughly used by the throne. After a day of gruelling travel and multiple extreme sexual encounters, she felt as if every bone in her body had dissolved in that final, unprecedented assault — and when the timer finally expired, the devices finally stopped, and the mechanical arms retracted the throne back into the hidden room, Alice, who had reached her absolute limits in body and mind, simply lost consciousness.

The sun rose and set. It was not until evening that the wretched latex doll Alice drifted back to awareness on the floor of the hidden room, pulled herself groggily upright, and acknowledged that she was one step closer to freedom. She laboriously spat out the gag — which had released, and now resembled nothing so much as a particularly elaborate masturbatory aid — worked the feeling back into her thoroughly numb and stiffened tongue, cast a deeply wary look at the latex throne behind her, and staggered out of the hidden room on her heels.

Walking was strange. Her pussy and rear, both swollen and turned outward from prolonged use, made it impossible to put her legs fully together.

“Haaah~. Finally. I can talk again. I must have been completely out of my mind when I built that chair — that thing is a torture instrument. Damn it. Clit, nipples, labia, ass — I'm in pain everywhere. I'm also starving. None of this matters, I need food first. Then I have to get back to the ruin tonight. I hope someone's dealt with that silver wolf by now.”

Alice let out a deeply aggrieved sigh, then resumed her slow, aching descent on the punishing heels, click, click, click, down the stairs to the kitchen. There wasn't much — the alchemical cold-preservation magic of the Mageblade Era was too unstable for long-term food storage, so she found only two strips of dried Tamm fish and a small piece of leftover sweet cake. She picked each one up with her lips, placed them into a wooden tray, then carefully picked up the tray in her mouth and carried it to the dining room. The manners she'd been raised with simply would not allow her to eat anywhere else, even in her current state — a limbless latex sex-doll, eating from a tray she was carrying in her mouth. Ceremony, she felt, mattered.

There was at least one advantage to the altered perspective: with the camera at her collar, she didn't have to worry about not seeing the floor on her way. And so it was that, as she passed the floor-length mirror in the bathroom between the kitchen and dining room, she saw herself clearly for the first time.

She had been imagining herself as thoroughly debased already — but seeing it reflected back at her in full, she realized imagination fell catastrophically short of reality. She used to tease her best friend Isa for having such large breasts and a good figure that the most available work for her in town was on Agate Street, the well-known pleasure district. And now here was Alice in that mirror: body wrapped in latex, breasts the size of two large watermelons, thick and pert buttocks, a waist so narrow it was almost architectural, empty space where both arms should be, vagina and rear stuffed with their respective plugs, nipples and clitoris swollen and engorged, three conspicuous manufacturer's stamps and barcodes on her body that gave a person a certain indefinable sense of wrongness, handles placed in obviously practical positions, and the overall posture of eating — hunched forward, ass in the air — arranged with anatomical consideration for ease of entry. All of it together, seen clearly and at once, made the suddenly-calm Alice want to quietly die. If Isa ever saw her like this, Alice would need to scout out a suitable burial plot immediately.

That said — she had to admit she was genuinely, shamefully pleased with the way her latex breasts and buttocks moved with every step, swaying and bouncing in a way that she could only describe as extremely satisfying. The feeling of being slightly hindered by her own full, heavy body was something she found she couldn't get enough of. She could almost imagine maintaining this figure forever. Just thinking about it, she felt herself getting wet again — though this was obviously not the time for that. Night had fallen again. Alice wolfed down the food in her tray as quickly as her lipstick-smeared mouth could manage, hurried back to her room, picked up the silver entry card in her mouth, and set out for her next adventure.

The night was dark, the wind loud. Alice arrived at the ruin's outer perimeter, drenched in sweat, card still in her mouth, wobbling on her heels. The leaves stuck to her body and her heaving chest told the full story of the journey. After two consecutive days of mountain trekking in eighteen-centimetre heels, Alice was at her limit — her calves trembling continuously, every step an act of will. But the ruin entrance was right there in front of her. Once she stepped into the cave, she could use the card in her mouth to access the ruin proper. Alice managed to pull the corners of her mouth into something like a smile. Never again. Next time, she would absolutely not push things this far.

The cool evening air played across Alice's latex-wrapped skin, offering some small comfort to her exhausted body. She shivered slightly, took one more step, and successfully crossed the threshold into the cave. And then a thick smell of iron and blood flooded her nose. Her eyes went wide.

Standing in the passage, blocking her path, was an enormous monster — as large as a small mountain.

A Silver Moon Wolf.

Chapter 2

Archived Version

The protagonist's setup in Chapter Two is basically every one of my kinks firing at once — though because so many of those elements never made it into the story, Chapter Three happened (and then the author got swamped by another massive commission and couldn't take more). The farm section, in particular, has quite a few kinks that are entirely my own additions.
Commissioned work; author: 无忧上人 user/76694342

“There, there, Snowball — settle down. You're supposed to be a proud tier-four monster, not a lapdog glued to my side all day.”

Alice sighed and crouched down to scratch Snowball's wolfish head. Nearly a month had passed since her latex adventure, and in that time she had been fortunate enough to find a substantial cache of documentation about the ruin in one of its rooms, deepening her understanding of the various instruments housed throughout its many chambers.

Even so, Alice could feel clearly that she had only barely touched the tip of the iceberg. Yet even that tip, with the records now available to her, was enough to enable a more exciting, more thrilling, and more dangerous adventure.

After half a month of obsessive research with barely a thought for sleep or food, Alice had mastered two new technologies: biological cloning and consciousness transfer. As the names suggested, the former used machinery left behind in the ruin to produce an unconscious biological duplicate of a living subject — a technology historically used for organ transplantation, as the shared origin meant no rejection response. The latter used instruments to achieve one-way or two-way consciousness transfer between any entities that qualified as biological life forms, typically used in the ancient era to operate artificially-created soldier-bodies. It was precisely these two formidable biotechnologies that Alice's next adventure would rely upon.

“Awoo!”

Snowball let out a disgruntled whine when Alice gave him only a perfunctory scratch before turning back to calibrate the instruments in front of her. Yes — the wolf-shaped creature she had named Snowball, currently about the size of a small dog, was the very same infamous Silver Moon Demon Wolf. The story of how this had come to pass went back to the night a month ago when Alice had made her “arduous” return to the ruin.

At the time, wearing a pair of melon-sized breasts, her body coated entirely in latex, perched on eighteen-centimetre heels and clutching the ruin's entry card in her mouth after a gruelling journey, Alice had arrived at the ruin's entrance only to find her way home blocked by the Silver Moon Demon Wolf. Though it was powerful, the wolf had taken severe wounds in the assault by the town's skilled fighters and was barely clinging to life. Even so — a centipede doesn't stop wriggling just because it's been stepped on — and Alice had had no doubt whatsoever that the creature could still surge up on its last reserves of strength and crush her like an insect.

But the Silver Moon Wolf had done no such thing. Perhaps it recognized the “familiar face” before it. Perhaps it smelled the obscene aura clinging to Alice and concluded she posed no threat. Either way, it made no threatening or blocking move, and simply allowed the cornered, trembling Alice to shuffle carefully past it to safety. Alice, in turn, reciprocated in kind: once back in the ruin and freed from her restraints and her arms restored, she had taken the risk of approaching the near dead wolf and used the ruin's technology to bring it back from the brink.

And thus Alice had acquired one wolf-shaped devoted puppy — one that had voluntarily shrunk itself using its innate abilities and now stuck to her side with a fervour that made her want to cry. But it was genuinely thanks to this formidable creature that Alice had dared to explore a number of unfamiliar rooms in the ruin over the past month, a highly productive period in which she gained considerable knowledge and technology and developed a much clearer picture of the underground ruin itself. From her current assessment, the complex appeared to be an industrial facility centred on biological modification technology and constructed specifically to service warfare.

“Listen, Snowball — here's what we'll do. You go off and play by yourself for a little while, and once I'm done with what I need to do over the next few days, I'll run wild with you. Deal?”

Snowball refused to take no for an answer, and Alice finally gave up and ran out of patience. After a month together, she had come to understand that while Snowball was nowhere near as intelligent as a human, it was still a high-tier monster — roughly as sharp as a human child of eleven or twelve — and not easy to brush off. So she had no choice but to take advantage of the time while her clone was growing in its cultivation pod to spend a while playing fetch with Snowball, and only once she had sufficiently appeased the little tyrant was she able to peel herself away and get back to work.

As the object in the cultivation pod — which had looked like an infant embryo — grew at visible speed in nutritional fluid spiked with W-037 growth hormone into an adult female identical to Alice in every respect, Alice felt the tension in her chest slowly release. This adventure required modifications to her body that were near-irreversible, and the success or failure of the clone was central to whether the adventure could proceed at all. Fortunately, once the clone was lifted from the pod, all vital signs were normal. This duplicate produced by prehistoric technology was indistinguishable from the real Alice in face and figure — even Snowball, a tier-four magic beast, couldn't tell them apart. The greatest difference between the two was that the clone had no autonomous consciousness, no limbs, and almost entirely different internal organs from a normal human.

In pursuit of the most extreme possible pleasure from this game, Alice — now possessed of significantly more modification technology — had gone considerably further in modifying her body this time. During the cloning process she had simply dispensed with her limbs entirely, creating the clone-that-would-become-her-body as a human torso, surrendering freedom of movement entirely. This was the only way to ensure that the stumps at the joints would appear natural and rounded rather than showing the clean lines of a surgical cut.

Gazing at the creature before her — wearing her own face but a body that functioned as little more than an oversized masturbation sleeve — Alice felt a flush of excitement rise to her cheeks, her breathing growing quietly urgent. She carefully carried the “flesh onahole” into an adjacent sealed surgical chamber. The walls of this semi-transparent enclosed room were hung with mechanical arms of all sizes, and once Alice's consciousness was transferred, these pre-programmed arms would take over the role of surgeons, using the inherited wisdom of the ancients to further modify Alice's tender body.

After one last, longing look at the limbless clone body locked securely inside the mechanical modification pod, Alice lay down with firm resolve — under Snowball's puzzled gaze — into a spare horizontal cylindrical cultivation pod in the original room. Once her consciousness was transferred, this pod would sustain the functions of Alice's original body, keeping it ready for her eventual return.

As soon as Alice had adjusted her position, a semi-transparent helmet descended from above the pod — bristling with multicoloured signal lights and external wiring of every hue — and, as if afraid she might change her mind, sealed around her head with a speed that left no room for second thoughts.

She had no idea how much time passed. There was only a moment of darkness before her eyes — and when she opened them again she found herself back in the surgical chamber. She reached for her nose out of habit, and inevitably failed: she no longer had limbs. She was lying in the mechanical modification pod that had been meant for the clone, something like an object, and an equally ugly but unmistakably high-tech helmet was slowly retracting up toward the ceiling.

She had done it. The first step of her adventure was complete — her consciousness had been successfully transferred into her clone body. The joy of it made her want to throw her arms and legs in the air, but those empty spaces at her shoulders and hips made that quite impossible. Alice found she wasn't disappointed by this. If anything, the “helplessness” made her feel more excited. She was like an object that could be discarded at will, her fate placed in others' hands, unable to affect whatever might happen to her — the mere thought of it was enough to make the clone body's labia begin to grow wet.

The next step in the program would be converting her mouth into a sex organ, wouldn't it?

Alice had barely finished the thought when the mechanical arms around her began to move. Two arms carrying strong anaesthetic injections approached from either side and plunged into her jaw, paralysing her pain receptors while leaving her consciousness intact. Then a circular forced-opening gag roughly pried Alice's cherry-petal lips apart, exposing her two rows of white teeth.

She felt a faint, numbing tingle spread through her oral cavity and knew: her teeth were being coated with a loosening agent. This toothpaste-like compound would rapidly destroy her gums, causing her teeth to loosen and eventually fall out — a process that would inevitably trigger pain intense enough to cause unconsciousness in an unmedicated person. It was specifically because the agony was so extreme that she could still faintly feel that muffled tingle even through the powerful anaesthetic.

One by one, teeth stripped of their roots were removed from Alice's mouth by a miniature hand-shaped mechanical arm. Alice had long since lost control of her saliva, which ran freely; she could feel the gaps in her mouth with every breath. This was, of course, an unavoidable step in converting her mouth into a sex organ — hard teeth would absolutely interfere with the enjoyment of anyone receiving oral service.

Once every tooth had been extracted without exception — including a particularly deep-set wisdom tooth — a spray-nozzle arm rinsed Alice's oral cavity with clean water, then began stanching the bleeding. The first stage of modification was complete.

The anaesthetic had not yet worn off. Alice could do nothing but stare at the bright surgical lights on the ceiling of the modification chamber; even turning her head was beyond her. The drug was powerful enough that her body had also been partially affected, and weakly clenching her labia open and shut was about the only thing she could manage. This helpless, out-of-control feeling was so acute it almost overshadowed the discomfort in her mouth.

Hmmm~

A soft hum sounded, and the modification pod began to slowly close. A breathing mask descended and sealed against Alice's face. Simultaneously, vast quantities of nutritional fluid mixed with various modification agents began flooding in to submerge Alice's body. Alice knew perfectly well what was coming. Over the next three days, she would be gradually transformed by these strange compounds into a fully realized flesh onahole — an irreversible masturbation-sleeve doll. With the last clinging remnant of attachment to her identity as a “normal human being,” Alice closed her eyes in contented satisfaction as anaesthetic mist hissed through the mask.

“Awooo~ Awoo~”

Time passed in a blink. It was already the third day of Alice's modification, and Snowball had long since taken to pacing the corridor outside the surgical chamber in anxious circles. Alice had prepared large quantities of synthetic meat and fresh water before beginning, and had modified the ruin's settings to allow it to come and go freely for hunting, ensuring it would neither go hungry nor die of boredom — but three entire days without its master was, for a devoted “puppy,” genuinely too much to bear. If Alice hadn't drilled it repeatedly with strict instructions not to interfere, Snowball would almost certainly have reverted to full size and broken through the wall. A tier-four magic beast was absolutely capable of that.

Hmmm~

A familiar sound rang out. Snowball's ears shot up with excitement. As the nutritional fluid drained from the modification pod and the pod door slowly opened, the Alice lying inside was unrecognizable.

“Mmh~”

Feeling the fresh air from outside, Alice — who had been unconscious for three full days — blinked slowly and drifted back to awareness from the cold interior of the pod. Immediately, she registered the heavy, laden feeling on her chest and a strange tilt to her body. Just as she had planned: over three days of compound modification, she had acquired two enormous breasts she had always dreamed of. These two objects, each noticeably larger than a basketball, were the culprits making it so hard for Alice to breathe.

But compared to normal breasts, Alice's new assets had gone considerably beyond mere size. Looking carefully, one could observe that the areolae and nipples at the centre of her breasts had simply disappeared — replaced by two large circular concave channels resembling oversized masturbation cups. These two enormous circular cavities, appearing as if the nipples had inverted to create them, were continuously leaking and expelling a thick, milky-white fluid, giving the whole arrangement a thoroughly depraved and irredeemable appearance.

Alice smiled in satisfaction — then noticed the odd tilt of her body. This head-low, hips-high position, flat on her back: clearly caused by the excessively thick buttocks underneath her. These two cheeks, no less impressive than her breasts, had accumulated the second-largest concentration of fat in her body, already far exceeding her modifications from the previous adventure. Alice found herself genuinely grateful she no longer had legs to support and drag all of this around on.

In the brief few minutes Alice spent cataloguing her new body, large quantities of arousal fluid, intestinal fluid, and breast milk were already flowing continuously from her thoroughly ruined body. Three days' worth of accumulated secretions made her feel sticky and slick all over — this too was one of the modification's results: massively increased secretion volume.

But this was not yet the time for Alice to find relief. The detection of Alice's awakening had registered not only with an excited Snowball beyond the door but also with the cold programming of the system, and the mechanical arms in the surgical chamber stirred back to life. An arm bearing a red metal phallus rammed itself unceremoniously into Alice's toothless mouth, stretching it open to a circular aperture approximately six centimetres in diameter. This cold metal cock pressed deep into Alice's oral cavity, reaching all the way to the upper section of the esophagus where the stomach had once been.

This called for a brief digression on the internal organ modifications Alice had made during the cloning process. Nearly all of the organs in this cloned body had been relocated or restructured. The stomach and most of the large and small intestines had simply been removed, leaving the esophagus to connect the mouth directly to the remaining intestinal channel in a near-continuous passage — which while making Alice the most complete kind of toy simultaneously meant she had lost the ability to digest ordinary food. Beyond specialized nutritional fluid, semen, breast milk, and female arousal fluids were the only substances her body could process — absorbed directly through skin that had been modified to extract oxygen in lieu of lungs, though with considerably lower efficiency than actually swallowing.

And the metal phallus in her mouth was far from the only violation. Her breast-onaholes, her rear passage, her vagina, her nostrils, and her ear canals — every possible opening was receiving the same treatment simultaneously, each being penetrated by an artificial cock at nearly the maximum diameter she could accommodate. This instantly drove Alice, whose sensitivity had been tripled by the modifications, straight to the verge of ecstasy.

But these metal plugs filling every one of Alice's openings were not there to provide her pleasure — they had their own function. Once every opening was sealed, several flexible steel-tubed mechanical arms began spraying black nano-latex across every inch of Alice's debauched body, the liquid adhering instantly upon contact with her skin.

Its adhesion to bare human skin was powerful; adhesion to skin already coated with nano-latex was considerably weaker, decreasing further with each additional layer, ensuring uniform coverage. And the external arms weren't the only ones working — the metal cocks buried inside her, their surfaces perforated with microscopic holes invisible to the naked eye, were simultaneously pumping a distinctly different red nano-latex into Alice's interior passages. The ears and nostrils were excepted; all others were being thoroughly coated.

Because Alice had access to the black technologies of consciousness transfer and biological cloning this time, she felt no need to spare her body whatsoever. Every modification she chose was irreversible, and she had accordingly adjusted the nano-latex formula. Rather than adhering to the skin like clothing, these compounds would rapidly assimilate with the surface skin or internal organs at different rates depending on their colour, permanently replacing the original tissue while preserving the latex texture and tactile quality.

The internal spraying therefore had little negative effect on Alice and in fact brought her closer to the concept of a toy, and because of the special properties of this particular nano-latex, Alice could still breathe, absorb nutrients, and secrete fluids through her skin.

After a considerable time, all the metal cocks buried inside Alice's body withdrew — except for the nasal and ear plugs — and all the mechanical arms returned to their resting positions. The Alice who now lay in the modification pod was entirely and irreversibly a latex doll, her enormous breasts rising and falling with the movement of her chest. The modification was not yet complete, but Alice had at least gotten what she wanted. If she could see herself now, she would be so overwhelmed with excitement she'd be gushing. If she could see herself, that is.

Because her body surface was now completely covered in black nano-latex, Alice had lost sight, hearing, and smell — her original facial features had been entirely consumed; her head was now less a human head than an irregularly shaped latex oval.

As for her sense of taste — that was gone too, along with her ability to speak. It wasn't that her cute little mouth had been sealed shut by the latex. Rather, the interior of Alice's oral cavity was now lined entirely with vivid red nano-latex, shaped into the precise contours of a refined male masturbation sleeve, her tongue sealed immovably within. She couldn't even close her mouth.

Her jaw was still there — but because the metal cock had roughly stretched her mouth to its absolute limit before the latex spray was applied, Alice's mouth was now permanently fixed in a wide-open position. The same applied to her breast onaholes, vaginal opening, and rear entrance. None of this would prevent Alice from secreting — her arousal fluids, intestinal fluids, saliva, and breast milk would flow as naturally as ever, conveniently eliminating the need for any user to apply lubricant before use.

Alice's current form was undeniably enticing. Her glossy black latex body was studded with deep-red latex sex-cavities, blooming like roses — but leaving all those passages permanently open to the cold air was a touch inhumane, and besides, Alice was surely desperate by now to get a look at her own debauched appearance. So the mechanical arms throughout the surgical chamber went back to work.

First: a helmet matching the colour of Alice's nano-latex-coated body. Seen among the surrounding mechanical arms, it looked like a smooth, seamless elliptical full-face helmet, formed from a single continuous piece of composite latex material — a matte, lightweight substance with the peculiar texture of plastic fused with rubber, combining breathability with a hardness that rivalled reinforced alloy. Excellent helmet material.

At the forehead of this helmet was a raised protrusion set in a ring of circular composite silicone, with a plain round lens embedded at its centre. Unremarkable in appearance, this lens was nevertheless essentially Alice's only means of communication with the outside world: reading her brainwaves, it would emit green, red, or yellow light to indicate that Alice was thinking yes, no, or other (including, for instance, please give me a large cock). The camera embedded within — shielded from the lens's own light output — was also Alice's sole window onto the outside world, though like the collar that would shortly be connected to the miniature plugs in her nose and ears to serve as a proxy for hearing and smell, its control did not rest with Alice herself.

On either side of the helmet, where ears would normally be, and slightly toward the back of the crown, the traditional handles had been replaced by red metal grips mounted on grey alloy bases — the same pull-handle style as a traditional handbag, presumably for convenient transport of the latex-doll Alice.

The helmet's fitting method was also somewhat unusual. Given how precisely it conformed to Alice's silicone head, normal donning was entirely out of the question. Instead, like a certain suit of iron armour, the front faceplate had to be temporarily split open, fitted over Alice's head, and then snapped shut and locked at the neck. Worth noting: despite this helmet's formidable degree of enclosure, it made a specific exception for Alice's mouth — now an onahole — leaving it exposed, framed only by a circular ring that conformed to the latex seal around her permanently gaping lips.

Because of the electronic lock at the collar, a helmeted Alice would be unable to initiate consciousness transfer — meaning that without the specialized key to unlock it, she might be trapped in this toy-flesh-receptacle body forever. Which was, one suspected, precisely the outcome everyone most wanted to see.

Zzt~ zzt, zzt~

A non-existent current flickered through Alice's mind, and her dimmed vision brightened suddenly. Through the camera in the helmet's forehead, Alice was grudgingly restored to sight — her field of view severely limited, but still far more reassuring than boundless darkness.

“Sss~ (Oh, I've really become a full latex cum-dump now, haven't I. No limbs feels so strange. But my breasts are so swollen — is the milk filling up? Come on, let's move to the next stage and milk me already.)”

Realizing she had regained sight, Alice instinctively tried to speak — but her throat, no longer capable of vibration, could produce only the rapid hiss of air passing through. A dull, aching pressure radiated from her breasts, making Alice squirm restlessly in the modification pod in her onahole-doll body.

Perhaps hearing Alice's silent prayer, the dancing mechanical arms quickly returned with a selection of cocks and handles of various sizes, and began the final stage of modification on Alice's debauched latex body.

First: five handles — two large, two small, one medium. Aside from size, these were almost identical to the handles on Alice's composite-latex helmet: red metal grips mounted on circular grey bases. The material of the grey bases shared a key property with human skin — they would bond strongly with the nano-latex coating Alice's body.

Once the four limb-position and back handles were installed, the agitated mechanical arms brought out five thick black silicone cocks, each with a red metal handle mounted on a circular grey base at its end — clearly intended to give any user convenient leverage for thrusting.

It wasn't difficult to imagine the scene that would shortly result: these silicone cocks filling Alice's breast-onaholes, vaginal opening, rear entrance, and mouth-opening, their grey bases and red handles left exposed at Alice's body surface. Even Alice, watching through the forehead camera, found herself swallowing involuntarily, her lower passages immediately flooding with arousal fluid.

The mechanical arms, however, picked up the silicone cocks and then simply hovered in midair, making no move to proceed. Just as Alice — arousal fogging her brain to a significant degree — was drowsily puzzling over this, a pair of hand-shaped mechanical arms suddenly seized her breasts.

These arms terminated in human-hand replicas made of silicone, each slightly larger than an average adult pair, with five slender fingers of extraordinary firmness and strength, all of which sank deep into Alice's enormous, pliant breast-flesh. Alice's mouth-onahole emitted a rapid series of hisses — the intense pleasure causing her breath to quicken.

The arms then began kneading Alice's basketball-sized breasts in earnest, completely indifferent to whether Alice could withstand this level of sensation, strictly following the preset program as they mauled her breasts with rough, forceful thoroughness. Under this violent and crude stimulation, Alice finally remembered these arms' purpose: to relieve her milk — manually.

“Sss~ (No, don't — mmh~, too good, too… rough, aah~ it's coming, ahh~ Alice is going to break~… mmh~)”

Under the manipulation of the mechanical hands, Alice's breast-onaholes — deep as an abyss — began responding like a stimulated pussy, seeping out thick white milk in slow, mounting increments. A sweet, rich cream-scent immediately spread through the entire surgical chamber. The pressure in Alice's swollen breasts eased somewhat — but these few drops manually coaxed out and serving as lubrication were barely a drop in the ocean relative to three days' worth of accumulated milk. They fell far short of solving the fundamental problem.

The mechanical arms appeared to recognize this as well, and promptly expanded their operation. The original pair of milking hands remained, now joined by two additional arms, each tipped with a male silicone cock.

These new cocks were not large — approximately three centimetres in diameter, nowhere near as dramatic as the ten-centimetre cocks that would later plug Alice's breast-onaholes — but what they lacked in girth they compensated for in agility, their shafts studded with bead-like protrusions. Inserted into Alice's breast-onaholes, they immediately began thrusting at high speed, pausing occasionally to rotate, churning the milk inside Alice's onaholes into continuous eruptions. Combined with the sheer scale of her breasts, the effect was something like two milk volcanoes. The intense stimulation of the pleasure drove Alice to soundless, uncontrollable crying out — or at least, to the barest, almost inaudible hiss of air.

Under the combined effort of two silicone cocks and two silicone hands, Alice's milk was extracted at a ferocious rate, thick cream spraying and splattering across her body. The glossy black latex against the white milk, combined with those “cloud-piercing” enormous breasts, made her look precisely like a latex dairy cow — debased and obscene, to say nothing of the passages below, which were futilely secreting arousal and intestinal fluids without receiving any satisfaction whatsoever.

Detecting that the moment was right, the mechanical arms moved swiftly to the next phase. The two silicone anal plugs — maximum diameters of fifteen and twenty centimetres respectively — were rammed without ceremony into Alice's wide-open lower passages, satisfying Alice's depraved wishes at last. With the generous lubrication of arousal and intestinal fluid already present, Alice's thoroughly primed vagina and rear offered no real resistance, and both thick cocks slid home with ease, plugging both of Alice's lower passages completely. Without external assistance, there was absolutely no chance Alice would be expelling these on her own.

Her breast-onaholes still being churned by the male cocks, her lower pussy and rear now penetrated — Alice, who had already been teetering at the edge of a squirting orgasm, was kicked cleanly over it. Her vagina and rear were both plugged too thoroughly to allow much fluid to escape, so the only outward sign of Alice's climax, beyond violent full-body shaking, was the two exposed breast-onaholes competing to pump out enormous jets of thick white milk — discharging every drop that had accumulated in Alice's body over three days.

This milk-volcano spectacle continued for nearly a minute. Once Alice had been completely emptied, her swollen breasts shrank one size down — from larger-than-a-basketball to a proper basketball. This was one of the properties of Alice's modified breasts: they would swell dramatically according to the volume of milk stored, growing heavier and larger the more milk they held. Intensely uncomfortable when full, but not genuinely dangerous.

As the milk volcanoes went quiet and Alice's climax-shaking body gradually stilled, the mechanical arms in the air above her lost no time in plugging her breast-onaholes and mouth-opening with silicone cocks, truly sealing every last penetrable passage in Alice's body. Now Alice truly had to rely on her modified skin to barely maintain respiration.

Before she could even catch a breath, two more mechanical arms swung down. The first held a small circular device less than a centimetre in diameter — a dial-knob, which was press-fitted directly into Alice's navel and, the instant it made contact with her body, linked to and assumed control of all five silicone cocks inside her. All five immediately began maintaining a gentle, lowest-setting vibration.

This small black-rimmed, red-centred dial had three activation modes — left-rotate, right-rotate, and long-press — with six total settings. Left-rotation cycled through vibration intensity levels one through three; right-rotation activated random vibration levels one through three, with higher random settings producing increasingly frequent high-intensity bursts of longer duration and a small probability of triggering a powerful electric shock. Long-pressing the knob for more than ten seconds would force Alice into unconsciousness, keeping her in a coma-like state until the knob was long-pressed again to restart her. This meant anyone could simply “switch Alice off” at will.

The second mechanical arm carried a grey alloy collar matching the handle bases, connected to the miniature mechanical plugs in Alice's nostrils and ear canals. Its surface was perforated with microscopic holes, allowing Alice to smell and hear the outside world.

The modification of Alice's body was now, finally, truly complete. The latex onahole that was Alice — still able to observe the outside world through the helmet camera — was picked up by the handles on her body by the mechanical arms, lifted from the modification pod, and set down on the floor of the surgical chamber. The surgical chamber door opened.

“Sss~ (Alright, alright, Snowball — stop licking me, seriously, I can't handle this, let's get to the actual business first!)”

The moment the surgical chamber door opened, Snowball — which had been circling anxiously outside for what felt like forever — came bounding in, looking exactly like an expectant husband pacing outside a maternity ward, and immediately began licking the latex figure on the floor from every angle with rapidly escalating enthusiasm. Alice couldn't stop it even if she tried. The cream-scent coming off her body was simply too tempting for a wolf to resist.

Alice also knew she had absolutely no means of stopping Snowball's behaviour right now, and besides, it had been waiting faithfully outside for three days. After squirming her onahole body away a few times, she simply let it go — Snowball could lick to its heart's content, and then they'd get to business. There was no particular rush.

She was, in fact, still capable of movement despite her missing limbs. Her enormous latex-covered breasts, after their own modifications, had acquired considerably more resilient connective tissue and a dense network of sensitive nerves — increased in sensitivity while also giving Alice just enough control to alternate between them in a crawling worm-like motion, and combined with her ability to curl and flex her torso like an inchworm, Alice was not completely helpless. Not quite. Every contact between her sensitive breasts or the cock-stuffed passages below and the floor still produced waves of dizzying pleasure, easily sufficient to make Alice “unable to move an inch.”

JamBakery/Works/103867199_p0

JamBakery/Works/103867199_p1

JamBakery/Works/103867199_p2

Especially with those little guests still busily buzzing inside her at their lowest setting. The vibration at minimum frequency produced no sound audible to human ears, but as a tier-four magic beast, Silver Moon Demon Wolf Snowball was under no such limitation, and its sharp hearing could detect every obscene internal sound Alice was producing.

Eleven-or-twelve-year-old-human-child levels of intelligence were enough for Snowball to understand many things, but not quite enough to approve of what the latex-wrapped Alice was doing — it could only categorize it under the heading of “reproduction,” which to a magic beast was the second-highest priority after survival, and therefore a matter of great importance. Snowball wasted no time, and after a brief release of three days' worth of pent-up frustration at being separated from its master, it followed Alice's instructions from three days prior: it gently took the handle at Alice's back in its mouth, returned to its full impressive size, and carried Alice off to another room in the ruin.

This room was considerably more cluttered than the clean, precise surgical chamber they had just left — understandably, since it was where Alice ordinarily rested. In the middle of this messy space sat a wooden crate approximately one cubic meter in size. This would be the starting point of Alice's adventure.

The crate was divided into two layers. The first contained a composite-latex insert moulded in the shape of an onahole, forming a perfectly body-contoured cradle that would cushion Alice during transit and prevent accidents on the journey. The second layer contained an assortment of tools that might be needed when using the onahole Alice — including but not limited to two detachable simple breast-pumps connected to nursing bottles, a compact remote control governing Alice's internal toys and her sight, hearing, and smell, and several specialized nutritional fluid doses. Alice had also packed a set of mechanical prosthetic limbs in case she ended up in a situation where she needed to function as a servant. Beyond all of that, there was a handwritten letter from Alice, along with a complete user's guide to the latex onahole Alice.

All of this preparation existed primarily because of Alice's best friend Isa. In two days, it would be Isa's eighteenth birthday. According to the cover story Alice had given her uncle, she was currently in a city called Amosas some forty kilometres away, studying prehistoric civilization under a distinguished senior professor.

But Alice absolutely could not bear to miss her best friend's birthday — so she had devised this particular solution, the unusual disguise of a latex flesh receptacle, to attend Isa's birthday celebration.

In the letter, Alice would explain specifically that this was a prehistoric automaton doll she had retrieved from the professor's collection — and that the fragrant milk the doll produced could help improve the quality of milk from Isa's farm's cows, and should be considered a birthday gift, on loan for a week.

During that week, Isa could stimulate the “prehistoric doll” through any means that didn't cause it damage in order to encourage milk production, and by feeding this milk to her dairy cows she could upgrade the quality of her farm's output. However, she would need to feed the doll one unit of specialized nutritional fluid per day, and at the end of the week, she must re-pack the doll and leave it at the farm entrance to await collection by the professor's courier — in other words, by Snowball — who would then bring Alice back to the ruin and allow her consciousness to return to her original body.

There was, however, one thing worth noting: Isa's family ran the most prominent farm and largest dairy supply operation in town. Her pasture was home to more than a hundred healthy adult dairy cows. Seven days would be a very tight window for every single cow to receive sufficient milk to improve their output.

Therefore, the mere thought of the next seven days — spending them in this broken onahole latex body like a piece of machinery, being relentlessly exploited by her best friend day and night without pause, every drop of milk wrung from her debauched enormous breasts — was enough to make Alice nearly wild with excitement.

Like her previous adventure, this one was a major gamble — again wagering Alice's own life. But she chose to trust in Snowball's loyalty, and believe it could use its considerable strength to bring her back to the ruin should anything go wrong.

She was, in other words, betting on the Silver Moon Demon Wolf. But at this point, nothing could have shaken Alice's resolve to have the mechanical arms in the room pack her into that crate.

The lid closed. The lock clicked. Alice, wrapped snugly by the composite latex of the crate interior, fell back into boundless darkness. The Silver Moon Demon Wolf in the room raised its head and let out a long, desolate howl — and the moment it ended, it seized the crate's handle and sprinted off toward the town, carrying its master Alice inside.

Under the blazing overhead sun, a young woman was cracking a whip to drive her herd toward the fresher grass at the far end of the pasture.

On her chest hung a pair of enormous breasts, at least F-cup in size, which obliged her to wear an extremely conservative brassiere — and even so, the heavy things swung dramatically with every step she took, making her tire easily.

It was these very breasts that had earned her repeated teasing from her best friend, who insisted she should be the star attraction of the town's famous Agate Pleasure Street rather than a farmer. Whenever this came up, she would fire back, inviting her best friend to join her there and make it a matched pair.

Her best friend, yes — the very Alice who was now packed and sealed inside a latex flesh receptacle. And she — Isa, Alice's one-week mistress — was currently working hard under the blazing sun, completely unaware of the Silver Moon Demon Wolf gently setting down its crate in front of her farmhouse nearby. The cows, however, being animals with sharper instincts, sensed the danger immediately, let out alarmed cries, and scattered in every direction away from the farmhouse. This strange behaviour left Isa standing in place, thoroughly baffled — and half a day's work of herding completely undone.

“Little Isa, it's getting late — I'll go drive the herd back to the barn. You go in and eat first.”

Just when Isa had managed, with enormous effort, to gather her scattered cattle back together, her uncle — who had gone to town to buy farming equipment — came riding back on a black horse, cracking his whip, and called out to her.

“Alright, Uncle Aidan!”

Watching her Uncle Aidan rein his horse to a dramatic rearing stop before her, Isa felt a small pang of envy. If only she could ride too — it would have made the afternoon's cattle-driving so much easier. But her abysmal riding skills had prevented her uncle from ever trusting her with a horse of her own, and so Isa obediently headed back to the farmhouse to begin preparing that evening's meal.

Trailing her whip behind her and idly slapping it against the weeds, wandering back to the farmhouse at a leisurely pace, Isa discovered the crate Snowball had left at the farmhouse entrance almost immediately upon arrival.

To Miss Isa — wishing my dearest best friend the happiest of eighteenth birthdays...

“This is from Alice?!”

The moment Isa understood that the ugly crate was a birthday gift from her best friend Alice all the way in Amosas, her feelings toward it transformed entirely. But what on earth could Alice have sent her that required such an enormous crate?

Curiosity made her fingers move faster at the lid. As Isa wrenched the thick top open, what was inside was enough to make her face go scarlet — she had never even kissed a man. Because what it looked like, quite frankly, was a woman trapped inside strange black plastic with no limbs, and sitting on this woman's enormous glossy-black breasts was a crisp white envelope completely at odds with everything around it.

Both afraid and confused, but trusting her best friend completely, Isa reached out a slightly trembling hand and carefully retrieved the strange envelope from the chest of this “rubber creature.”

To be opened by my dearest best friend Isa...

She had no idea how long it had been since she was sealed into the crate. In the complete darkness, Alice had lost all sense of time, and could only estimate she was still en route to Isa's farm from Snowball's heavy panting nearby. Since Isa's farmhouse was at the edge of town, there was little concern about Snowball — which Alice had coached in stealth — being spotted. Until a sudden, violent jolt transmitted itself through her increasingly sensitive latex skin, telling Alice she had arrived. Snowball's retreating footsteps confirmed it.

Now: when would her best friend Isa come to open this birthday gift she had prepared so carefully?

Alice lay locked inside the crate, her breasts aching with fullness as the minutes passed, mind wandering. Without limbs, she was completely immobile, but sealed inside the crate she felt a quality of constriction that was almost absolute — like returning to the womb. Every inch of her skin was strictly constrained by the snug moulded cavity, making even the slightest deliberate movement impossible.

This brought to mind something she had read in the ruin's documents: the legendary human-core mechs and human-core warships of the prehistoric era.

According to the texts, these weapons were constructed around a clone as the central core — fitted with a special combat suit built from nano-latex, with the consciousness of a specially trained soldier transferred into the clone-core via consciousness transfer, allowing human thought to more efficiently drive the war machine, resulting in higher combat performance. When the mech was destroyed, the soldier's consciousness could be transferred back, minimizing casualties — even if the soldier's consciousness inside the clone body inevitably experienced a sense of total physical restraint. Better that than losing a life.

Just as Alice lay motionless in the crate, entertaining herself with the only form of recreation available to her — her own thoughts — a soft click of a lock snapping open brought her sharply back. A blinding line of sunlight followed, and with it, a gentle voice from the silhouette it belonged to.

Seeing it was Isa, Alice felt half the tension in her chest release at once. Through the helmet's camera, she could clearly see the anxiety and hesitation on her best friend's face. Perhaps her current appearance had been startling — but it didn't matter. Once Isa understood what she was for, she would love her unconditionally.

Alice watched Isa read the letter with quiet confidence, and took the opportunity to stretch out her body, stiff from prolonged confinement. With the crate lid removed, half the restraining contours of the insert were gone — and Alice found herself twisting her torso more dramatically than she'd quite intended, which caught Isa's attention.

By the time Isa looked up from the letter, her expression had entirely changed. The fear was gone, replaced by something so intense it was almost startling. She leaned down and tried to lift the onahole Alice from the crate, and even with Alice cooperating as actively as she could, Isa still had to work for it.

Because Alice was heavy. She had lost her limbs, yes, but her enormous buttocks and milk-filled breasts more than compensated for the missing weight — added together, Alice was actually noticeably heavier than she had been in her normal state. If it hadn't been the legless, armless torso that it was, making for a more straightforward grip, Isa would have genuinely struggled to hold her for any length of time.

“Isa, what are you doing — where did that crate come from — oh, Lord save us, Isa, what in the world is that thing you're holding?”

Just as Isa managed to lift Alice from the crate, her Uncle Aidan arrived back at the farmhouse — and the sight of whatever his niece was cradling made him recoil with an audible exclamation. Only when Isa produced the letter did his shock begin to settle.

“Right, so — Isa, this doll of yours — it says here — honestly, my head is spinning — but if everything in this letter is true, our milk is going to sell out completely. I need to do a small experiment.”

Even as Alice was carried inside the farmhouse by Aidan's strong arms, his words continued to echo in her mind. A small experiment. Just hearing those words was enough to make her excited — if she still had legs, she would have been pressing them together urgently right now.

Brought along with Alice was the crate and its full contents. Alice was now casually deposited on an animal-hide sofa like a rag doll, watching uncle and niece marvel over the various implements in the second layer of the box.

Alice's arousal had been well and truly ignited. The five cocks vibrating at minimum frequency inside her did absolutely nothing to address the fire now blazing through her — yet the two of them were still absorbed in cross-referencing the user's guide with every toy she'd packed, with no apparent intention of attending to Alice's needs, leaving her increasingly impatient. The light on her head flickered to yellow.

“Sss~ (I'm… so itchy… inside… cock… fuck me…)”

In a bid to attract Isa and Aidan's attention and finally get some relief, Alice — whose milk-filled breasts were swollen to the point of near-madness — tried to work her body toward the edge of the sofa. But milk-filled breasts were far easier said than controlled. Their sensitivity was dramatically decreased, and every attempt to use them sent a bladder-rupturing sensation of pain through her, mixed with no small amount of pleasure, leaving Alice in a state of suffering and pleasure combined.

She shifted her focus downward: driving her latex buttocks up with the strength of her narrow waist, then using the base of the enormous silicone cock plugging her vagina as a floor contact point, and simultaneously lurching her upper body forward. The inevitable consequence was that her breasts were kneaded and mauled against the sofa fabric — and her vagina, compressed by the silicone cock inside it, also paid a toll.

Still, painful as it was, it was faster than trying to move by breast-wriggling alone — a few more of these, and she'd reach the sofa edge. Resolved, Alice gave everything she had.

Once. Twice. The black-latex-coated Alice was something like an enormous, obscene caterpillar, suffering her way toward a destination that would have been trivially easy to reach under any other circumstances. If she could have cried, she would be crying now — though along with whatever liquid her eyes might have produced, her lower passages were definitely producing their own, held in only by the merciless seals of those enormous plugs.

Finally, — after several agonizing lurches that left her exhausted and gasping for breath through her skin, both enormous breasts heaving with the effort — Alice reached the sofa's edge. While she was still puzzling over how to get herself down from it safely, a breathing motion caused her breasts to shift at just the wrong moment, and she simply rolled off.

The impact of something heavy hitting the floor drew Aidan and Isa's immediate attention. Alice, however, paid a price she had not anticipated.

What struck the wooden floor first were Alice's basketball-sized, milk-filled breasts, their nipple-onaholes hitting wood at full force. Without limbs to break the fall, even Alice's brief moment of warning couldn't prevent the collision. The impact was nearly enough to knock her out from the pain, and the compression forced a few small white drops to squeeze past the plugs and bead at the edges of her breast-onaholes.

“Oh Lord — Isa, it's alive — did you see that, it's still moving!”

Alice, writhing and curling and shaking on the floor from the pain like a shrimp, prompted Aidan to cry out in alarm again — though he calmed down once his niece explained.

“Alright, alright — yes, I know, the latex doll is alive. Didn't you read the letter, Uncle? This part, right here: 'In order to achieve the most authentic response to external stimulation, this latex doll has been fitted with a complete set of reaction programming—'”

Isa shoved the letter into her uncle's hands to puzzle over at his leisure, and immediately hurried over, gathering the still-twitching Alice off the floor with careful hands. This was her best friend's special birthday gift on loan — she couldn't have it damaged before she'd even had a chance to use it.

And so Alice ended up cradled gently against Isa's chest, both pairs of breasts pressed together, pressing and rubbing against each other. The lingering soreness from the fall was still present, but the pain had eased considerably. This tender interlude lasted until Isa caught the scent of the few drops of milk that had been squeezed out of Alice's breast-onaholes by the impact.

“Mmm — Uncle, do you smell that? It's such a strong cream scent.”

Isa sniffed the air like a small dog, and under her prompting Aidan found himself also catching, unmistakably, an extraordinary aroma of milk. Both of them looked toward Alice simultaneously. There were still traces of milk on her breasts from the contact with Isa.

Aidan exchanged a look with Isa, then took Alice from her, laying her flat on the edge of a long wooden table. With an exploratory curiosity, he carefully took hold of the silicone cock in one of Alice's breast-onaholes and tried to ease it out.

“Hmm?”

He used less than thirty percent of his strength on the first try, but Alice's breast-onahole seemed to have a powerful internal suction, stubbornly clamping down on the deeply-seated silicone cock and refusing to let it go. His first attempt accomplished nothing — which promptly activated the male competitive instinct. Aidan immediately increased the force.

With a slow, steady pull — marked by a visible twitch from Alice's latex-covered body — a dark-red, imposing cock gradually emerged under Aidan's effort, and with a crisp pop was finally fully exposed before Isa. A great surge of milk immediately followed in its wake, nearly recreating the milk-volcano spectacle from the ruin.

The small farmhouse was instantly saturated with an overwhelming cream scent. Both Isa and Aidan found their eyes drawn involuntarily to the enormous male organ in Aidan's hand. Even Aidan — who was no stranger to Agate Street's establishments — felt his face go slightly red. It was genuinely difficult to believe human anatomy could accommodate something at this scale.

“Uh — ah — right, this — children shouldn't be looking at this sort of thing!”

Aidan clapped a hand over Isa's eyes, instinctively wanting to throw the silicone implement away, but then remembered it was an important accessory of the latex doll and carefully set it down beside Alice on the table instead.

“I'm eighteen, Uncle — I am not a child! And you were the one who wanted to extract the milk, weren't you? Stop standing there — go find a container!”

Realizing she was being treated like a small child again, Isa put her hands on her hips, thrust out her considerable chest with indignation, and directed her flustered uncle off to the barn to retrieve a milk pail.

“Honestly. Treating me like a child every single day.”

Once she'd watched Aidan go, Isa rubbed her nose in exasperated embarrassment, and her eyes drifted — involuntarily — to the large silicone cock still lying on the table. She was completely unaware of Alice on the same table, who was very nearly convulsing with suppressed laughter. If her adorable little mouth hadn't been transformed into an onahole for public use, Alice would absolutely have burst out laughing by now.

But the laughter didn't last because Aidan was already back.

“Hey — Isa, what do you think you're doing!”

Aidan's sharp exclamation startled Isa out of her trance, leaving her entirely flustered, the silicone toy in her hand suddenly very obviously incriminating. She looked every bit like a child caught misbehaving. A child…

No. No. She, Isa, was not a child any more. She straightened herself up with a surge of dignity, shot her uncle an annoyed look, put the silicone toy back down on the table, and went to assist Aidan in extracting her best friend Alice's milk.

“Sss~ (Mmh~, finally, finally, it's starting~)”

One of Alice's breasts was now somewhat smaller than the other — a portion of its milk already released — as Aidan flipped her over with his strong hands and suspended her upper half over the edge of the table, pressing down on Alice's thick, soft buttocks with both hands to keep gravity from pitching her headfirst into the large milk pail below.

Isa crouched in front, gripped the handle at the end of the silicone cock in Alice's remaining full breast, and put her back into pulling it free — but Isa's strength was simply not up to the task. Each hard yank managed to drag the cock out a few centimetres, only to have Alice's hungry breast-onahole immediately suck it back in.

Back and forth, back and forth — Isa was sweating heavily with the effort and the cock had made no meaningful progress outward, while Alice was being subjected to the violent pleasure of something thrusting in and out of her breast, and was emitting silent, helpless gasps through her mouth-onahole.

“Ha! Some eighteen-year-old — barely any strength at all. Stand aside and let your uncle show you how it's done.”

Aidan had been watching his niece's struggle in silence, and now burst out laughing when she finally admitted defeat. He waved her aside with one great shovel-sized hand, pinned Alice's waist with his right arm, gripped the handle on Alice's left breast with the other, and pulled. A great gush of thick milk immediately poured into the pail below the table, filling it a full fifth in one pull.

The release of pressure was intensely satisfying to Alice, who had been suppressing her milk for so long — she went completely docile under the pressure of Aidan's hands, lying at the table's edge and shivering with pleasure while her best friend's improved breast-massage technique worked her over, squirming her buttocks as much as she dared, hoping to encourage the vibrating silicone cock in her vagina into more active consolation.

This behaviour did not escape the notice of Aidan, whose hands were firmly bracing Alice's body on the table. He was a regular patron of Agate Street, and Alice's wriggling immediately produced an involuntary response — he was stiffening before he quite realized it. Both hands began unconsciously kneading Alice's thick, generous buttocks. The soft elasticity of latex was a sensation Aidan had never experienced before, and it had instantly captivated him. His gaze drifted meaningfully down to the handles at Alice's lower body. If the breast-onahole's plug could be removed, there was no logical reason the doll's lower handles couldn't be too — and Aidan privately resolved to find a pretext to send his niece Isa away later, so he could test this theory properly.

The testing could wait, however, until after the immediate business of emptying this prehistoric automaton's breasts was concluded. The limbless Alice was currently lying face-down in a thoroughly obscene posture on the long wooden table, two enormous latex breasts swinging off the table's edge, their weight creating a constant gravitational pull that made Alice feel perpetually on the verge of toppling headfirst into the milk pail — were it not for Aidan's strong hands pressing firmly on her buttocks.

Which was not to say Alice was comfortable. Setting aside Aidan's restless hands currently busy kneading her buttocks, and the quietly vibrating cocks in her vagina and rear, there was Isa, crouched on the floor in front of her, working diligently at the breast massage — which was more than sufficient stimulation on its own. In some hazy, floaty corner of her mind, Alice was cast in the role of dairy cow, which was honestly not far from accurate given her current form. The only real difference was in milking technique.

Normal dairy cows were milked with light finger-pressure on the teat. Alice the latex dairy cow had no teats — their place had been taken by two red latex-lined onaholes — so Isa was obliged to wrap both hands around each breast from the base and squeeze downward. This was both inefficient and physically tiring for Isa, and offered Alice very little pleasure while generating a fair amount of discomfort from the compression.

Just when Isa was drenched in sweat and pushed herself upright to rest, Alice's letter slipped from her clothing and fell to the floor. Reading those familiar handwritten lines, Isa suddenly remembered with a start that the crate had contained specialized milking equipment.

Meeting her uncle's puzzled look, Isa sprinted outside, and returned shortly carrying a collection of peculiar devices. The most obvious among them — two identical transparent bowl-shaped objects with tubing attached to the base, their openings slightly larger than Alice's breast-onaholes in their unstretched state — were clearly designed to be cupped over Alice's breasts.

These were actually specialized breast pumps Alice had fabricated. They were supposed to be connected to two-litre nursing bottles, but Isa had apparently set those aside in favour of the larger-capacity milk pails — a perfectly reasonable substitution.

Under Aidan's surprised gaze, Isa carefully pressed the two transparent bowl-shaped devices against Alice's wide-open latex breast-onaholes. The moment they seated against Alice's breasts, a ring of dense small hook-claws emerged around their perimeter and bit firmly into the latex, while the contact edge simultaneously exhibited a temporary fusing effect with the latex, becoming in an instant as inseparable from Alice's breasts as if they had grown there. Thick white milk immediately began trickling down through the base tubes and into the pails on the floor.

The milking speed was considerably faster this way, and Isa's hands were now entirely free — it had become automatic. Aidan gave his niece an impressed thumbs-up, though he could have sworn — whether by coincidence or not — that the latex doll underneath him was shuddering more intensely than before.

Before he could investigate, Isa produced from her pocket a black remote control barely the size of half a palm. Alice, whose breasts were currently being vigorously drained by the two suction devices, felt her pulse jump sharply when she saw the remote. She vaguely recalled writing somewhere in the user's guide that sexual stimulation promotes milk production in the doll — and immediately felt that she had made a catastrophic error in judgment.

As predicted: Isa, having carefully deciphered the small text labelling each button, promptly and without hesitation turned the dial to vibration level two. It might look like a modest single-step increase. For Alice, it was unequivocal torture. The most immediate evidence was that Aidan felt the prehistoric automaton pinned beneath him begin to thrash violently.

Level one was something like pre-sex foreplay — even gentler, if anything. It gave Alice the sensation of someone slowly rubbing a cock against her vaginal walls, producing only the faintest pleasure, barely enough to register.

Level two was a different universe entirely. One point and a half thrusts per second hammered against Alice's slutty pussy and her intestinal-fluid-filled rear with brutal force, not even sparing the onahole that was her mouth. For Alice, this was a three-front simultaneous assault, all at once, with no allowance for recovery. The pleasure was so intense that, robbed of any outlet in moaning or crying out, she could only thrash her clumsy latex body uselessly to distract herself — because having her pussy, ass, and mouth all penetrated simultaneously was not something even the current Alice found easy to manage.

Isa and Aidan were both taken aback by the force of Alice's reaction and instinctively moved to stop the experiment — until they saw that Alice's milk production had nearly doubled under the stimulation. After brief consideration, Aidan made the decisive call: he climbed onto the wooden table, swung one leg over Alice's latex waist and sat astride her enormous, sexy latex buttocks like a man breaking a horse, pressing his full weight down to suppress her thrashing and prevent any of the precious milk from flying outside the pail.

“Sss~ (Mmh~, stop — please stop, ahh~, I'm breaking, mmh~, it feels so… good~ Alice's brain is going to break~!)”

The latex cocks sliding through Alice's internal fluid-slicked passages mercilessly thrust, dragged, and tormented her sensitive latex walls; the milk stored in her breasts was being pumped out by what felt like a high-powered hydraulic press. This intense pleasure — the first that had truly scratched Alice's itch in what felt like a long time — simultaneously seeded in her a creeping dread of the coming days in her dairy cow life. But as Alice — at the mercy of everything around her — had nothing to do except drag her onahole-doll body through fantasies of the humiliation and torment the next few days might bring, her only real available entertainment was doing her best to swing the only assets she had left — her ass and her breasts — in hopes of putting thoughts in Aidan's vigorous young head about what else this prehistoric automaton might be useful for.

Under this level of sexual assault, Alice was quickly wrung out like a rag, her breasts sagging slightly for lack of their fullness, and in the span of fifteen minutes had been driven through no fewer than five intense orgasms. The enormous expenditure of energy had reduced her to a state of complete exhaustion — she had poured out close to half a pail of milk and was now as limp and still as an actual inanimate toy. Even if Aidan were to drop his trousers and take her directly at that moment, Alice would have had no energy whatsoever to actively move and meet him.

Even so, to prevent the milk from leaking, Aidan ruthlessly reinserted the two black cocks into Alice's silicone breast-onaholes — which made Alice, on the verge of unconsciousness, flash briefly with irritation, internally cursing this human male for his complete absence of empathy. The light on her head switched to vivid red.

The emotion passed quickly, though. Alice suddenly understood: this body of hers was made to be played with and used by humans. Why would Aidan extend unnecessary empathy to a prehistoric automaton? She had no one to blame but herself for retaining human sensibilities after becoming a toy.

Too late to matter, anyway. Isa and Aidan had both noticed the change in Alice's head-lamp. After a brief discussion, they concluded it meant the doll was too exhausted and needed rest. With gentle care that contained no awareness whatsoever of the helpless gaze Alice was directing at them from behind the light, Isa pressed the navel dial, and forced Alice into sleep mode. In the last moment before unconsciousness took her, Alice saw her foolish best friend's sweetly innocent smile, pure as a saint's.

“Sss. (What's happening, my head is so foggy — how long was I asleep?)”

When Isa restarted her and Alice opened her eyes again, it was the following morning. Milk had filled her breasts overnight, restoring them to their round, pert fullness, and she could practically hear the milk sloshing inside as they swayed. Alice was currently being treated like a precious object, carefully nestled in what appeared to be a modified baby pram. Her excessively fat latex buttocks were wedged tightly into the leg-openings on either side, which Alice found deeply humiliating — she hadn't sat in one of these since she was one year old, and had not expected to experience the sensation ever again.

The special treatment, it turned out, was because Isa and Aidan had already confirmed the experiment's success: the portion of cows that had been fed Alice's milk were producing noticeably higher-quality milk today than those that hadn't. Not up to the standard of Alice's own milk in any category, but enough for Isa to market it under a premium label and turn a tidy profit.

“Right then, Isa — new day, new division of labour for maximum efficiency. You go into town to arrange for Uncle Andrew to come with a large purse and buy up our milk. I'll handle extracting the doll's milk — after all, only I can keep her properly under control when she's producing, yes?”

“That's fine with me, Uncle — just don't forget to take the herd out to graze, and make sure you use the freshest pasture.”

“Of course, of course — how could your uncle forget a thing like that. With your best friend's help, we might have enough silver coins for you to build a proper house soon — and then your uncle can start looking for a lovely sister-in-law, ha ha.”

In Alice's field of view, Isa and Aidan sat at the table discussing the day's tasks. Was it Alice's imagination, or had Isa's chest grown slightly larger? She didn't have time to think about it — all she knew was that she was about to be milked again the moment she woke up.

A miserable state of affairs. Alice felt, in some fundamental way, not unlike the black-and-white creatures in the barn eating feed-grass. She was beginning to regret her reckless Doll Adventure 2.0 — though this did nothing to prevent Isa from cheerfully leaving the farmhouse and granting her best friend and Uncle Aidan a pleasant period of quality time alone.

Watching his niece walk away, Aidan's gaze toward Alice became noticeably sheepish, and a distinctly improper flush crept into his face. Alice felt the air in the farmhouse shift into something subtly precarious. Her situation appeared to have taken a dangerous turn.

Perhaps he had simply never encountered a limbless latex humanoid toy before — even the experienced Aidan showed an uncharacteristic bashfulness. With the guilty look of a man doing something he shouldn't, he switched off Alice's vision via the remote, then carefully extracted her from the hip-pinching baby pram.

Losing her sight left Alice briefly disoriented. In the sudden darkness she had no way to make useful judgments about her surroundings — only a pair of warm, strong hands gripping her sides, lifting her from the pram, and setting her down on a flat elevated surface.

Then Alice felt the silicone cock-plug in her mouth-onahole begin to loosen. A great external force wrenched the enormous thing — thoroughly saturated with Alice's saliva — from her mouthful of onahole-ridges, and Alice tasted breathing through her now-sex-organ mouth for the first time in over a day. She greedily gulped great lungfuls of farmhouse air — hay and wheat and morning — because despite being perfectly capable of breathing through her latex skin, eighteen years of living as a person made the absence of breath-through-mouth feel deeply wrong, and Alice savoured each mouthful.

Unfortunately, the impatient Aidan wasn't paying attention to Alice's air-hunger. He cracked open a canister of specialized nutritional fluid and unceremoniously poured the whole thing into her in one go. The pale green liquid — viscous and carrying the pungent smell of male semen — hit Alice mid-gulp, sending her into a coughing fit. Without a functioning larynx, she produced no sound at all, only convulsed silently on the table's surface.

While Alice was still coughing, Aidan yanked out the valve plugging her vagina. Cold air rushed into her overstretched opening with the enthusiasm of homing birds, shocking a full-body shudder out of Alice, and the large store of fluids she had been holding back gushed out freely, releasing a wave of thoroughly indecent scent into the farmhouse air.

Whatever catalyst, Alice's arousal fluid released into the surrounding atmosphere clearly had some aphrodisiac effect. Aidan's breathing quickened immediately. He stripped off his lower garments and pressed his enormous, purple-flushed cock against Alice's soaking onahole-pussy without preamble, pushing in — and Alice's soft latex walls, slick with fluid, offered no resistance whatsoever. He buried himself to the root in one thrust and felt the bizarre latex texture dragging against him in a way that produced a bolt of pleasure quite unlike anything he'd experienced before. He badly wanted to pull out and do it again.

Pulling out was significantly less smooth than entry had been. The moment Alice's latex walls detected him withdrawing, they contracted from every direction, squeezing him with a tightness that surpassed even a virgin's. He managed to extract himself, knees gone slightly weak — and then stood staring at the deep, wet opening dripping before him, which seemed to exert an almost supernatural pull, compelling him to push back in.

Alice, for her part, had no awareness of the extraordinary experience Aidan was apparently having. She'd just recovered from the coughing fit, and found that her clone body's first time had been taken without ceremony. This was genuinely her first encounter with a real male cock — and against the cold silicone toys she was used to, the warmth and organic texture were considerably more pleasant. The amplitude of thrust was far beyond anything a stationary plug could provide, and the heat made her instinctively want to squeeze herself tight and keep it inside forever.

Why had he stopped after only one thrust? Alice couldn't see, but she felt Aidan still and withdraw, leaving her soaking opening opening and closing around nothing. She was about to despair when something round and blunt parted her outer lips again and nudged tentatively into her itching depths.

With sight cut off, her other senses had sharpened considerably — her extraordinarily sensitive onahole-pussy, with its ridge-and-nerve-packed walls, clearly registered the corona of a male glans. A cock. Alice immediately lit up with excitement, silently mouthing nothing, but this time she was deliberately restraining herself, not squeezing the way she had before — she was afraid of frightening him away.

The thrill of this cat-and-mouse caution sent Alice's adrenaline soaring. Her careful patience paid off — after a brief tentative probe, Aidan lost his restraint entirely and began thrusting in earnest, ploughing steadily into Alice's latex onahole-pussy. With arousal fluid generating in quantities that defied reason, his cock was soaked within moments, the friction between latex walls and skin raising the temperature until her fluid turned thick and viscous and milky-white, like spider silk — yet still perfectly lubricating. It made the whole spectacle of a human male coupling with a latex humanoid even stranger and even more obscene.

Without a functioning voice, matching Aidan's thrusting with every motion of the body she had left was Alice's only outlet — and she threw herself into it with genuine enthusiasm. Her energy prompted Aidan to reciprocate in kind; he lifted her bodily off the table and held her against him, intending to embrace and thrust simultaneously.

They faced each other in this embrace, and Aidan's years of experience told him a long kiss would dramatically improve the encounter — but Alice's impossibly enormous breasts formed an impenetrable wall between them. He settled for running his tongue along her glossy black latex skin.

At first, the many handles on Alice's body had puzzled him, but now he intuited their purpose perfectly. Without any instruction, he discovered the most efficient approach: grip the handles on her body surface with both hands and use her like an oversized masturbation sleeve. This technique drove Alice, with her extraordinary sensitivity, directly into orgasm.

“Sss~! (Mmh~!)”

The instant Alice came, her onahole-pussy discharged a flood of arousal fluid that completely soaked Aidan's lower half. But Aidan, blood in his eyes and breathing like an animal, went right on hammering Alice's latex pussy, the burning-iron rod of his cock working in and out without pause. He was not coming back from this state until he had finished.

With sight suppressed at Aidan's guilty-conscience direction, Alice's remaining senses were enhanced still further, pushing the already extreme sensitivity of her modified body to an even higher level. Aidan's cock managed to drive her into a minor orgasm every few thrusts, and the volume of arousal fluid this produced was comparable to the milk now being squeezed from her breasts at an accelerating rate.

All that milk, trapped behind the breast-plugs with no way out, accumulated until it had inflated Alice's breasts to a size that defied imagination — far beyond their original basketball size, the diameter approaching Aidan's shoulder width. This made the embrace increasingly difficult to maintain, and eventually Aidan had to deposit Alice back on the table and revert to the original arrangement.

Alice couldn't spare attention for any of this. The swelling pain in her breasts was genuinely hard to ignore — but it still couldn't drown out the pleasure washing up from below. Any ordinary woman would have had her mind simply wiped clean by now, but Alice was not ordinary. Years of modification and sexual punishment had tempered her nerves to iron. Even so, during this encounter she was being fucked into repeated blank-eyed daze, barely managing to claw her way back to coherent awareness between orgasms — to the point where she genuinely could not recall when the sex had ended.

Aidan allowed Alice's sight back. Half her field of view was immediately obscured by the towering black mass of her inflated breasts. Her vagina was sticky and strange-feeling — like semi-set cement — the familiar mixture of arousal fluid and male semen that had been deposited inside her, now changed by the heat of friction. He had come inside her. At least a latex doll had no need to worry about pregnancy.

Alice leaned exhaustedly against the sofa cushion, the smell of male semen rising from every surface of her body, mingling into a thick obscene cloud that completely obliterated the farmhouse's wheat-smell. The floor was puddled with still-wet fluid, silently testifying to what had just happened. Aidan, now wearing fresh clothes, was doing his best to wipe the scene clean with water.

Apparently noticing Alice's stirring, he came over quickly, straightened her onahole-body back into its proper position, and reinserted the previously removed silicone cock — with no apparent concern for the considerable amount of mixed fluid already inside her.

“Sss~ (mmh~)”

After Alice's silent moan, she was surrounded once more by latex cocks. The familiar buzzing returned. But after what had just happened, the cocks' low-frequency vibration was insufficient to satisfy her now considerably more demanding body. The pleasure they provided couldn't even override the aching pressure from her milk-swollen breasts. Alice desperately wanted to know when the bastard Aidan was going to fulfil his promise and milk her.

Sooner than she'd expected. Perhaps anxious about his niece returning at any moment, Aidan cleaned the farmhouse with impressive speed. Once the floor was wiped and the smell as neutralized as possible, he grabbed Alice by the head-handles, lugged her like an oversized piece of luggage, and carried her toward the dedicated milking barn — though considerably less easily than usual, given the sheer weight of Alice's milk-swollen breasts.

“Phew — this doll is heavy. Wonder how much we'll get this time.”

By the time he'd hauled milk-swollen Alice into the barn — her breasts now the size of small millstones — Aidan was drenched in sweat. He quickly lashed her upright against a stall railing, yanked the plugs from her breast-onaholes, activated level three vibration on the remote, and went immediately to open the stall gates and let out the cows, which had been lowing with hunger — the sex had consumed too much time. Now Aidan was genuinely racing to finish his self-appointed tasks before his niece returned.

This left Alice thoroughly abandoned in the barn. Not exactly foul-smelling, but not pleasant either. In the dim light, she had been roughly bound to an individual stall with rope — several thick cords threaded crudely through the space between her breasts, lashing her residual body tightly in place. Something approximating a rudimentary box-tie had emerged. It would guarantee she couldn't move even a millimetre, no matter how hard she thrashed under the pleasure — but it said nothing about the quality of her milking experience.

Especially when two thick hollow steel pipes were currently rammed firmly into her breast-onaholes. What these pipes had originally been used for was unclear, but their current purpose was obvious: directing Alice's milk output to prevent it from spraying everywhere.

Aidan had already been thinking about this the day before during the milking session, and today had simply implemented it. He'd initially worried that the breast-onaholes, stretched by the large silicone cocks, might not grip the narrower-diameter steel pipes adequately — but this concern proved entirely unnecessary. The moment the pipes were seated, Alice's contracting onahole walls gripped them from every side with a force that would make extraction genuinely difficult. Which was why Aidan felt completely comfortable leaving Alice alone in the dirty barn to milk herself.

Under level-three vibration from the three internal cocks, Alice's white milk flowed like two small waterfalls, the rich cream scent drifting everywhere as the thick fluid streamed down through the pipes and accumulated steadily in the two large pails on the floor. This objectively impressive volume of rich cream would shortly become feed for the cows, which would eventually become silver coins in her best friend's hands — which was, after all, the entire point of Alice renting herself out as Isa's coming-of-age gift.

At the moment, however, with the false male organ in her vagina working her ferociously, the grandest of friendships was struggling to sustain Alice's will to endure. Her pussy, so recently pounded hard by Aidan, was now simultaneously hyper-sensitive and accompanied by a faint, persistent edge of pain — so that Alice was simultaneously forced to bear an ocean of pleasure while being continuously raked across the floor of suffering. And at level-three intensity, these silicone cocks also periodically released high-intensity electrical charges, pushing Alice further down into that abyss.

It was worth noting that Alice's pussy, since she had converted herself into a latex onahole in the ruin, had not received a single moment of rest until now. The vibration intensity had only continued to climb. Level three was not something that could be described as simple pleasure — the pain component now dominated, and a normal woman's vagina would likely have been destroyed long since by this barrage of alternating penetrations. Only Alice's pussy, fused with a layer of latex and dramatically reinforced in tensile strength, had managed to hold up under continuous penetration this long without risk of actual perforation.

Cold comfort given the depth of despair in Alice's mind — but at least it meant she was not in danger.

If there were a next time, Alice thought, she was absolutely keeping her vocal cords. The agony of being sexually tormented without any outlet for moaning was teaching her exactly what it meant to find life worse than death. Her rear passage, which had not been opened at all today, was packed full of thick intestinal fluid, her lower abdomen aching with the pressure — yet still unable to escape being tortured by the latex cock. The nauseating fluid felt as if it was about to travel the modified straight-line path of her intestines and overflow through her mouth-onahole. Regret was spreading rapidly through Alice's latex brain. She was beginning to feel she might be genuinely broken before this was over.

When Aidan returned to the barn half an hour later after finishing with the cattle, he was nearly startled backward by the sight before him: both large pails were completely full, their surfaces releasing a tantalizing aroma, and the milk had actually overflowed and wet a considerable area of the floor. Aidan felt simultaneously elated and slightly guilty. This quantity far exceeded anything Alice's breasts could have stored before the session — the sexual stimulation's effect on milk production was apparently extraordinary. He looked at the utterly limp, unmoving Alice hanging against the stall, and his thoughts began to move in an entrepreneurial direction.

“What? You're serious? Uncle Andrew is really offering to buy our new milk at triple the price?!”

Having just finished his tasks in record time, Aidan met his niece coming to find him at the barn entrance. Her glowing expression told him immediately she had good news — and it turned out to be far better than he'd expected.

“Absolutely — Grandpa Andrew's eyes lit up the moment he tasted the sample I brought. He declared right then and there that he'd buy every drop of this quality at triple price. How about that — am I amazing, or what?”

Isa thrust out her full chest with pride, clasped her hands behind her back, and waited for her uncle's praise, fully expecting that she could no longer be treated as a child after pulling off something like this.

“Well done!”

Aidan tousled his niece's hair affectionately, then immediately began gathering his modest savings and swinging onto his horse to ride to the town blacksmith. With Andrew willing to pay triple, every remaining doubt about his “doll-squeezing plan” dissolved instantly. He now understood, with full conviction, that time was money.

Aidan was impatient to turn his idea into reality, but before he left he remembered to instruct his niece to bring the cattle back from the pasture in the evening and take Alice down from the stall, though the barely suppressed excitement on his face left the departing Isa thoroughly baffled.

It was not until sunset that Aidan came clattering back to the farmhouse on his bony horse, which left Isa — who had assumed he'd gone to “support” the “financially struggling ladies” of Agate Street, as he sometimes did — even more confused. But Isa didn't ask because right now, she was preoccupied with something happening to her own body that she found intensely embarrassing and difficult to explain.

The third morning, Aidan set off again on his horse for town in high spirits, just as he had the previous evening — which meant the tasks of milking Alice and managing the herd fell entirely to Isa, much to Isa's private relief.

In the dim, noisy barn, Isa carefully followed her uncle's example from the day before and lashed a visibly subdued Alice back to the stall railing. After yesterday's inhumane extraction ordeal, Alice was exhausted in both body and spirit. If her severed vocal cords hadn't made speech literally impossible, she might have actually considered just confessing the whole thing to Isa in exchange for freedom.

But confession remained only a thought. As Isa clumsily wound rope around Alice's latex body, Alice couldn't even manage to cry, let alone convey any meaningful hint. And just when Alice's helmet-camera tracked Isa's worried face approaching with those two steel pipes that had caused her such suffering the day before — Alice braced herself for another insertion — Isa suddenly set the pipes back down.

Had her best friend finally grown a conscience? Alice was barely daring to hope that today might be spared the worst of the milking agony, or at least the degree of torture she'd endured the day before, when the pensive Isa began — right there in front of Alice — removing her top. She bared her chest completely, exposing her large white breasts to Alice's full view.

“Sss~ (Mm, what is—)”

When Isa also removed her crude brassiere, Alice saw the peculiarity: Isa's breasts were noticeably a full size larger than they had been a few days ago. And both thick nipples — each as wide as an adult male's finger — were covered with small patches of rough cloth, visibly soaked through, making Isa look extremely uncomfortable.

“Sss~! (Surely that's not—)”

Alice didn't want to believe it. But her suspicion was confirmed a moment later. When Isa pulled away the crude cloth patches from her nipples, two streams of milk arced down immediately, flowing along the curves of her watermelon-sized breasts and releasing a warm, rich cream scent.

“Sss~! (No — how is this possible? I ran tests. The milk the cows produce after drinking my modified milk carries no side effects. But Isa — wait, don't tell me this idiot drank my raw milk directly?!)”

Alice's face went flat with resigned exasperation. There had simply not been time, due to schedule constraints, to fully analyze her own first-generation milk before beginning the modification — she had only managed to reach the broad conclusion of “no serious side effects” before proceeding, and had specifically noted in the letter not to drink the prehistoric doll's milk directly. Clearly, her best friend had treated that warning as background noise.

Alice sighed internally where she hung on the stall railing. Consider it a lesson for Isa. She'd figure out a way to fix the lactation problem once she was back in the lab.

Watching Isa hold her own breasts and carefully squeeze milk into her cupped hands, Alice went suddenly alert. Was Isa truly the only one who had ignored the warning? Thinking back to the unusual stickiness in her vagina the day before — Aidan almost certainly hadn't escaped either, though the difference in biology between male and female probably meant his change had manifested… lower. Honestly. Not a responsible adult between them.

While Alice was still lamenting her best friend's “irresponsibility,” Isa had apparently finished her own milking session and was picking the steel pipes back up, nude from the waist up. Thick and cold, the iron pipes broke through Alice's breast-onaholes without ceremony and slid back inside, the soul-deep chill of them making Alice shudder and clench involuntarily.

Two streams of milk — incomparably superior to Isa's in both quality and volume — flowed down the pipes into the wooden pails below. Another round of milking had begun. As the familiar vibrations woke up in her body, the fluid-filled Alice convulsed violently — and attentive Isa noticed, worried at once that the doll had developed a fault, and stopped the silicone cocks' operation to look for the source of the problem.

Isa's gaze tracked across Alice's body and landed on the abnormally distended lower abdomen, visibly distended like a pregnancy of four or five months. Something clicked in Isa's mind, and she pulled out the silicone cocks from Alice's lower passages. A fountain of arousal and intestinal fluid immediately erupted from Alice's openings — the fishy, musky liquid completely overwhelmed the barn's cream scent.

“Oh, Lord — that's just…”

Isa set aside the milking for the moment and quickly fetched clean water to wash the filth-saturated Alice, who had finally been given relief. The sensation of a wet cloth moving in and out of Alice's openings was more stimulating than the silicone cocks' vibration alone — Alice actually began enjoying the cleaning process, and instinctively opened herself up, attempting to coax Isa further inside.

Isa, deeply shy at heart, firmly declined. The brief interlude didn't shake her milking agenda in the slightest. After a perfunctory cleaning, she pushed the silicone cocks firmly back into Alice — which left Alice feeling as if a knife had been twisted in her chest.

The buzzing resumed. Milk flowed again into the pail below. Alice resigned herself, tolerating the creature rampaging inside her, and quietly took up the role of dairy cow. Four more days of this milking existence. Her life felt genuinely bleak. Alice enjoyed being enslaved and used — but she was, fundamentally, a young woman whose intelligence and perspective far surpassed her era, and she craved novelty in her torment. Repetition was eroding the pleasure of subjugation considerably.

But as always: a toy is a toy. A toy can be used however its owner pleases, and has no say in the matter. What Alice didn't know, at this moment, was that the novelty she was craving was about to arrive.

Yet another morning. Harsh sunlight pierced through the slats of the baby pram and jolted Alice from a drowsy half-sleep. This was day three of being a latex onahole dairy cow. The thought that half the days were over filled Alice with genuine relief — until she actually registered her surroundings, and her expression changed entirely.

This was no longer the cosy farmhouse with its wheat-scent. This was the open ground outside the farmhouse, and in the middle of the grass-carpeted clearing stood a crude but complex mechanical beast, incongruous and awkward, that had no business being there.

The machine Aidan had named the “Messiah” was what he had emptied his entire savings to commission from the town's blacksmiths — two days of sleepless work — a milking machine. Aesthetically, the limited budget and the smiths' craft showed their limits, but none of that affected its primary function.

Its target, naturally, was the poor prehistoric latex doll, Alice.

Aidan surveyed the iron contraption glinting in the morning sun with deep satisfaction. The “Messiah” looked, from the outside, roughly like a large gate: two thick iron cylinders standing upright on either side, each with two slots on the inner face — one large and one small — fitted with hidden latches designed to lock onto the handles at Alice's four limb-positions. Once all four slots were engaged, Alice would hang in midair like a piece of laundry on a line.

That alone, however, was insufficient. The four slots would make Alice completely immobile and bear her entire body weight through those four points, which could cause structural stress on Alice's limb-handles during prolonged milking sessions — not sustainable. Aidan had thoughtfully installed between the two cylinders a steel-and-rubber bundle resembling a corset, lined on the interior with elastic rubber — hence the “gate” description. This central “steel corset” acted as a secondary support, further reinforcing Alice's immobility while distributing her weight and ensuring no wear damage occurred.

But the “Messiah” was no mere restraint device — that would give it no right to the title of milking machine. Below the two locking cylinders was a wooden platform roughly half a meter high, and at positions on the platform aligned with Alice's vaginal and rear openings were two holes containing rubber rods engraved with magical runes — these representing the majority of Aidan's expenditure.

These rune-inscribed rubber rods were covered in menacing soft rubber protrusions and, while narrower than the silicone cocks Alice was used to, were clearly capable of no less intimidating stimulation — and with the enhancement of magical inscription, they could perform large-amplitude reciprocating piston motion, rotation, and electrical discharge simultaneously. This was where they far exceeded the simple vibrating plugs inside Alice. Any right-minded person fully understanding their function would not be volunteering to test them.

Was Alice a right-minded person? From a certain perspective, perhaps. But this had not prevented her from immediately wanting to be threaded onto them and experience it for herself. Three days of doll-life had left her exhausted — but at the sight of this strange new toy, her dead heart immediately stirred back to life.

For now, however, her breasts hadn't yet filled enough to justify milking. Alice watched with frustrated eyes as Aidan pushed the bizarre machine into the barn on its four iron wheels, its squeaking and creaking scraping at her insides like tiny paws, making her want to launch herself across the room — if only she could.

She couldn't chase the machine, so she tried the alternative approach: letting the five buzzing things inside her run as wild as they wanted, even squeezing down on them at maximum amplitude to generate as much pleasure as possible. The faster her milk accumulated under stimulation, the sooner Aidan would have reason to mount her on the machine — surely.

Alice thought it. Alice tried it. But fighting her internal toys solo was tedious, and after energetically working herself for nearly thirty minutes, the sunlight Alice had been woken by finally overcame her, and she dozed off — catching, in her last conscious glimpse, what appeared to be Aidan mounting his horse and riding off toward town.

When Alice woke again, it was noon, and she had not woken naturally — she had been woken by unbearable pressure in her chest. Her two breasts, swollen so large that the latex skin itself was becoming slightly translucent, were pressing against the frame of the baby pram with a strained creaking. At a rough estimate, each breast had approached something close to half a cubic meter in volume, their combined milk-weight probably near six hundred kilograms. Alice had not anticipated that one spontaneous experiment would produce results this extreme.

“Oh, you're awake?”

Aidan and Isa, who had been milking the barn cows, noticed Alice stirring and came over. They paid absolutely no attention to Alice's face, which was contorted with the pain of breast-swelling, and directed their full attention to her breasts. In their eyes, what Alice's breasts contained was not milk at all, but gleaming silver coins.

After some effort, Aidan gripped Alice's shoulder handles and lifted her from the pram while Isa pulled out the vaginal plug in one deft move, not bothering to step back from the spray of fluid that immediately wet her shoes. Aidan seized his advantage and, while his strength held, teamed up with Isa and a simple pulley lever they had prepared, lifting Alice and securing all four limb-position handles into the “Messiah”'s iron cylinders.

The novel experience briefly pulled Alice's attention away from the breast pain. She watched Aidan and Isa bustle around her, and as her four limb-handles were firmly locked in place, she felt her waist suddenly cinch — the corset-like device engaging successfully.

Alice hung midair like a bold flag from this not-very-tall machine, constrained firmly but not uncomfortably, with the odd feeling that she had been fused with the device. As Aidan worked below at the wooden platform, the two fearsome rubber rods were raised to meet her, pressing steadily into her lower openings until more than half of each was buried inside.

The lewd display in front of them left Isa's face red and her hands thoroughly uncertain where to put themselves. Looking at Alice quivering on the platform from the intrusion, Isa felt an involuntary dampening in her own lower body — and a primitive, nameless urge to insert something into herself as well.

“Isa — stop daydreaming. Pass me the pipes.”

Isa snapped back from her reverie at her uncle's call, red-faced and flustered, hastily handed Aidan the two steel pipes, then stepped back. The excited Aidan, too absorbed in what he was doing to notice his niece's condition, yanked the breast-plugs from Alice's onaholes, barely dodging the eruption of milk that immediately followed, and — practiced now — seized the moment before Alice's stretched onahole walls contracted to drive both steel pipes into the depths of her breasts.

Rubber tubing connected to the pipes' ends ensured no milk would be lost to spillage, completing Aidan's maximum-efficiency plan. He surveyed the thrashing Alice hanging on the “Messiah” with deep satisfaction and activated the rune-inscriptions on the rubber rods. The two protrusion-studded rubber cocks began working in alternating strokes inside Alice's sticky pussy and rear, and great jets of fragrant milk flowed through the tubing into the pails below. Watching the milk level in the pails steadily rise, Aidan broke into the guileless, contented smile of a farmer at harvest.

At first, with the frequency low, Alice could still enjoy the pleasure of the soft protrusions raking against her vaginal walls like the glans of an actual cock — but as the tempo climbed, she inevitably began gasping harder, copious scentless sweat forced through her latex skin making her body gleam as if oiled from the outside.

When the two rubber monsters inside her finally pushed past a threshold — adding rotation and electrical discharge to their already formidable thrusting — Alice was simply, completely broken. The stimulation was so violent that each thrust hit like a boxer's punch, enough to make her whole body convulse. Her womb, dramatically strengthened in resilience by modification, no longer felt like her private sanctuary but simply like a meat-sack for storing semen, offered up for any male to use as he pleased.

The extreme pleasure drove Alice's body to pump out milk in ever-greater quantities — which the machine pulled from her breasts immediately and funnelled into the pails below as fast as it was produced. In the span of this half hour, Alice's already tormented latex vagina and rear, swollen and everted, hung loose and wet outside her body, dripping something that resembled the drool of some terrible creature. Alice no longer had even a scrap of attention to give to anything outside herself — her entire being was consumed by receiving what this mechanical monster Aidan had conceived and built was doing to her. She didn't even notice when the farmhouse emptied, and she was left completely alone.

“Glug~ mmmph, glug~”

Some unknowable time later, Alice — mind nearly gone under the sustained assault of everything bound to her body — felt her mouth suddenly clear. A thick, viscous liquid reeking of male semen was poured in a rush into her oral cavity. The specialized nutritional fluid jolted her exhausted consciousness, and she managed to open her eyes enough to see the figure before her.

The young woman with that impressive chest was undeniably her best friend Isa — but what Isa was wearing made Alice stare.

Completely bare to the waist, Isa had fitted herself with the breast pump Alice had originally prepared for herself. The two transparent half-domes cupped the front of Isa's breasts entirely, and judging by the volume of milk already accumulated in the attached bottles, Isa had genuine dairy potential.

After finishing Alice's nutritional fluid, Isa also made no move to reinsert the silicone cock into Alice's mouth — which was an enormous relief to the exhausted Alice. What a good best friend, Alice thought with sincere warmth — only to notice that Isa was taking the mouth-plug, still slick with Alice's saliva, and holding it against her own lower opening.

Alice stared, jaw dropping — and watched, wide-eyed, as Isa inserted Alice's mouth-plug into herself with a deeply flushed expression. The silicone cock, soaked in Alice's saliva, slid into Isa's arousal-soaked pussy without the slightest resistance, disappearing completely in one smooth motion.

“Mmh~… that's… good…”

The silicone cock's built-in vibration made Isa instinctively press her thighs together, a strange, dazed smile crossing her face. Alice braced herself, full of anticipation, to enjoy watching her best friend's vacant expression — when a powerful, tingling shock from her own lower body dropped her straight into another orgasm, a gush of fluid bursting from her and spraying the floor. The electrical stimulation was not a single flash — it cascaded in waves, continuous and relentless, and the connected electrical charges robbed Alice of consciousness in seconds, her skeleton seemingly dissolving, nothing but limp, boneless exhaustion remaining — quite unable to watch any of Isa's self-pleasure performance.

This terrible ordeal continued until sunset, when it was at last Isa's birthday evening. Still bound to the now-quiet machine, Alice watched through the gaps in the barn's weathered slats as lights filled the farmhouse in the dusk. The success of the premium milk had finally convinced Isa's parents to make the long journey and celebrate Isa's birthday alongside her uncle — and all of Alice's effort and suffering these past days had finally found its meaning. The physical pain had not gone anywhere — but Alice's soul, in this moment, felt purely at peace. She wanted to throw back her head and howl at the sky.

The week ended in a blink.

Alice — body plastered with the dried residue of fluids that had soaked and dried and soaked again over days — was lifted from the “Messiah” by Aidan, who looked genuinely reluctant to see her go. This was the first time in four days she had been separated from that machine. Three consecutive days of uninterrupted torture without rest had brought Alice to the edge of complete breakdown. Her lower passages — pussy and rear — had been so thoroughly and continuously machine-fucked that the latex tissue itself had softened and prolapsed, her latex womb hanging loosely outside her body, swaying gently when she moved, looking from a distance like a suspended ball of flesh. But all of it was, finally, over.

Aidan and Isa solemnly repacked Alice in the crate, which had gathered a thin layer of dust. Along with Alice went four of the five silicone cocks that had been inserted in her — the fifth, which had been in her mouth, had “disappeared” due to a certain “accident” involving its conveniently-sized dimensions. Isa had included a “heartfelt” letter of apology in the crate, along with fifty silver coins in compensation.

Time had lost all meaning for Alice. Bound to the “Messiah” as a milking toy, she had no way to track it, and even now, she had none. But when the familiar, comforting swaying motion began in the small, dark crate, she couldn't stop herself from a silent sob of relief. Snowball had come on schedule to bring her home. In that cradle-like, irregular rocking, Alice drifted almost immediately into a long-overdue dream. In the dream she was no longer a latex-wrapped, hand-and-footless onahole receptacle — she was Alice again, the Alice who could glance around with bright eyes, radiant as a pearl.

“Sss~ (Mmm?)”

Alice blinked — or rather, activated the approximation of blinking — and the gentle glow of the familiar floodlight above sent a wave of excitement through her. Somehow, while she wasn't paying attention, the crate lid had vanished, and she was back in the ruin.

Alice struggled to knock her latex head against the inside wall of the crate, and the obvious noise quickly drew an ecstatic Silver Moon Demon Wolf. It whimpered, rubbing its great head against Alice's breasts with an aggrieved tenderness that immediately loaded Alice down with guilt.

“Sss~ (Alright, alright — that tickles~, Snowball, get me out first.)”

Alice knew perfectly well that Snowball couldn't understand her inner voice, but she did her best to express herself through the sparse body language available to her. Snowball didn't disappoint — quickly grasped the idea, and carefully took Alice's head-handle in its jaws, lifting her out of the filthy crate. Lifted out alongside Alice were the mechanical prosthetic limbs she had prepared but never used — though now, suddenly, they were exactly what was needed.

With Snowball's help, Alice laboriously attached the four prosthetic limbs. Having prepared to spend the week as a female servant in her doll body, the limbs' power cells were nearly untouched — more than enough to carry Alice through another week of activity. But Alice had long since had enough of her latex body. She urgently wanted to be herself again.

JamBakery/Works/103867199_p15

So, after briefly working out the slight unfamiliarity of the prosthetics, Alice went straight to the room housing the consciousness transfer equipment, and prepared to input the commands for immediate transfer. Every instrument in the room promptly died.

“Sss~ (What the — what happened?!)”

Alice swept the room's equipment with a cylindrical flashlight and found the ruin's energy supply had been completely depleted. But she clearly remembered the central power core having at least ten years of operation left.

Puzzled, Alice moved with a visibly uneasy Snowball to the ruin's central energy chamber. The moment she opened the door, it felt like stepping into a battlefield. The room was in complete chaos. At the centre, a bottomless pit had opened in the floor, and beside it lay a collapsed mole-like monster the size of a small hill. The tearing wounds on its neck were unmistakably Snowball's work. The green energy block that served as the ruin's core was caught in the crossfire of their battle, shattered into countless pieces, with virtually no hope of repair. In a way, it was something of a miracle that what remained of the shattered core had managed to keep running long enough for Alice to return before finally giving out.

Looking at the devastation before her, and Snowball beside her with its ears pinned flat in abject contrition, Alice felt the world go dark in front of her eyes and nearly toppled into the room. According to the ruin's documentation, the replacement backup energy core was located in a storage facility ruin approximately ten kilometres away in the depths of the forest. To return to her original body, Alice needed that core, and the consciousness transfer modification that came with it. But in her current state — how was she supposed to cross ten kilometres of monster-filled forest to retrieve it?

Chapter 3

Archived Version

All I want right now is to watch latex dolls being cute and cuddly together. I don't want to do anything else.
There's something so deliciously lewd about the contrast — permanently losing all four limbs, not even able to wear prosthetics, and yet still dragging that limbless little body around everywhere like nothing's wrong. Very horny (affirmative).
Commissioned work; author: 日白幕升 user/25228747

I. Ready to Set Out

On the off chance — just hypothetically speaking — that Alice one day became some world-renowned figure and left her story to posterity, future generations might coin a saying. Something to describe a person exerting every last ounce of effort, pushing their feeble and incompetent body to its absolute limits, relying on nothing but an indomitable soul and sheer will to accomplish something as difficult as scaling heaven.

That saying would be called… Alice's ten-kilometre journey to retrieve the new energy core, probably.

Alice allowed herself exactly one minute of escapism. As a woman of action, she had to leave immediately and deal with this self-inflicted but life-or-death crisis.

Her prosthetics had seven days of charge. When the power ran out completely and the mechanical limbs fell away, she would be reduced entirely to a limbless latex toy. The best possible ending: someone picks her up, and she spends the rest of her life being casually used by strange men, passing from hand to hand until she's finally discarded. The worst, and most probable: once the prosthetics died, she'd be left stranded outdoors, able only to inch along without limbs. The vibrators currently inserted in her various holes were bridged into her biological cycle, continuously draining energy to maintain their vibration. Ordinarily just pleasure toys, without any way to replenish nutrition, they would meaninglessly drain the life out of her. In the end, Alice would die of starvation in the wilderness — a limbless latex onahole, noticed by no one.

She had to retrieve the new energy core and restore power to her secret base.

And it wasn't only about recharging the prosthetics. Alice turned her head toward the glass pod across from where she sat.

Inside the pod, the complete, beautiful, fully functional human body that had once been hers floated silently in bright yellow transparent fluid, like a naked sleeping beauty, the helmet trailing its connected tubing resting on her head — waiting for Alice to pull her consciousness from this clone body and return it to her original. However, without power to the base, the consciousness transfer equipment was completely inoperative. Even the fluid preserving her original body could no longer circulate properly. Left too long without power, the unconscious, sleeping original might die from oxygen deprivation or starvation.

Every minute she delayed, her hope of reclaiming her normal body diminished a little more.

She raised a prosthetic arm. Through the camera built into the forehead of her helmet, she could see every finger of the mechanical hand.

The camera's greatest difference from her own eyes — permanently sealed under the irreversible black latex — was that it couldn't rotate on its own. So if Alice wanted to see her leg prosthetics, she had to tilt her entire head completely forward.

When she did, her view was immediately blocked solid by a pair of enormous round black objects. These two black spheres, each the size of a watermelon, were her breasts. This body produced milk continuously without pregnancy, the fluid secreted without pause from the glands — and what should have been expelled was dammed up completely by the fake cocks inserted deep into her nipple-onaholes, not a drop able to leak out. The result was a constant, intense pressure of fullness that invaded her reason and her thoughts without ceasing.

Alice's prosthetics moved with steady steps, carrying her debauched body toward the full-length mirror. The ancient biotechnology facility, now running on emergency power, was lit in a dim reddish glow, and by this light she assessed her condition before departure.

The mirror showed a doll completely sealed inside black latex, its glossy dark surface reflecting the red emergency light. The first thing the eye fell on was the watermelon-sized black spheres on her chest, and below the narrow waist, her buttocks ballooned outward just as dramatically — the pair of fattened rounded globes not significantly smaller than her breasts. Without legs getting in the way, those buttocks appeared even rounder and more obscenely full.

Four red-handled grips were fixed where her limbs should have grown, connecting to the prosthetics. The prosthetics had the joints of human limbs but exposed all their mechanical structure openly, their connection points looking almost loosely attached — giving the impression that a light tug would be enough to pull the limbless core out from inside and play with it. Which was, in fact, exactly the case. Not only were all four prosthetics programmed so they couldn't resist any human, so that a gentle pull from any person would detach them — Alice's entire body was also saturated with modifications custom-made to ensure she functioned as an accessible toy for anyone and everyone.

Aside from her mouth, every feature of her face was permanently sealed under black latex. This nano-latex, once sprayed on, fused completely with the skin and eroded the epidermis, leaving only a film thinner than a strand of hair between the sensitive dermis and the outside world. Her eyes, ears, and nostrils were all permanently sealed — the latex utterly eliminated her sight, hearing, and smell, reducing her head to a smooth black oval in which the outline of a face could only just be made out.

The collar connected internally to her spinal cord via nodes, monitoring her physiology and psychology while its dense surface perforations also served the functions of smell and partial hearing — though most of the auditory input was filtered out, leaving only human speech, which was projected directly into her mind, bypassing the ears entirely.

A smooth oval helmet encased her head, erasing all trace of a face. The suitcase-style grip on its top seemed to be a clear suggestion about how to carry her.

At the forehead, a slightly raised circular light connected to the neural implant port at her collar — in addition to its three-colour signals, it housed a camera and an auxiliary microphone, serving as Alice's eyes and ears and allowing her to perceive genuine sound. Its switch was at the back of the collar, operable by any living thing with a normal body temperature. Everyone in the world could control Alice's eyes and ears. The sole exception was Alice herself, whose cold prosthetics couldn't change the switch's state.

Outside the helmet, where ears had once been, vivid red grips extended horizontally — convenient for any man to seize and thrust through the circular opening at the helmet's lower edge into Alice's permanently gaping mouth.

Every tooth had been extracted. The interior of her mouth had been thoroughly coated with vivid red latex, which had hardened into a permanent wide-open position. Her young tongue was sealed flat against the lower jaw, and the mouth had become a deep red circular cavity — a six-centimetre-diameter opening in which no trace of lips, teeth, or tongue remained.

Her breast-onaholes and both lower passages had likewise been coated inside with deep-red latex, locked permanently open as red flesh cavities. This red latex bridged even more intimately with her nerves than the exterior coating, making every millimetre of her passage-walls far more sensitive than a normal girl's clitoris.

Unlike the mouth-hole, thick fake cocks of varying lengths and girths were firmly plugged into all four passages — the pair in her breast-onaholes ten centimetres in diameter, the one in her pussy fifteen centimetres, and the one in her rear a full twenty.

Red grips mounted on grey bases drew the eye of anyone who saw them, inviting them to pull the toys out and play with her passages themselves. Though she'd been packed full for over a week, no amount of time would make her adjust to these dimensions — let alone the fact that they buzzed ceaselessly at a low, lukewarm frequency, tormenting Alice's mind with that gentle, unrelenting warmth.

Naturally, these fake cocks were also outside Alice's authority. If she ever attempted to use her prosthetics to pull them out, those limbs would simply stop responding to her intended direction.

Finally, Alice rotated the helmet, bringing the camera to bear on her navel. Rather than the normal concave depression of a young woman's belly button, hers had a small knob protruding outward. Rotating it left or right adjusted the amplitude and frequency of the vibrators inside between sustained and random modes, respectively. Currently, they were at level zero — slow and barely perceptible — but at level three, with its violent vibration and intermittent electric shocks, she wouldn't be able to assess anything, let alone her situation. She would just collapse on the ground and orgasm herself to death. As with every other lewd device on her body, Alice could only turn the knob up — she had no authority to turn it down.

Most unsettling of all: long-pressing the knob for ten seconds would cut her consciousness entirely, causing her to black out completely until something else pressed it again and brought her back.

If I get switched off outdoors, I could just… stay that way until the prosthetics die. At the thought, Alice shuddered involuntarily, and the air she inhaled flowed through her permanently-open mouth-onahole and sent another flicker of pleasure threading into her awareness.

So then…

Who had extracted Alice from the body of that young woman in the glass pod, and placed her into this depraved body?

Nobody else. Me, myself.

Alice desperately wanted to slap herself, but couldn't. When she'd programmed the prosthetics, she had specified they could not be used to harm any human, herself included — both prohibiting her, as a degenerate onahole, from hurting humans, and emphasizing that she had no authority over her own body.

Transferring her consciousness into a receptacle like this, wandering around town for a whole week, then returning to transfer her consciousness back into her original body… only the most depraved of degenerate women would actually go through with something like this!

And she had, again, failed to leave herself a proper safety net! She'd come back from town, but hadn't arranged any care taking, and let a wild monster destroy the facility's energy core!

Without power the consciousness transfer couldn't run, and she'd be stuck like this forever — exactly the kind of existence this body seemed designed to be, living purely as a toy for the gratification of others.

“Sss—”

To accommodate larger and more numerous insertions, Alice had removed everything unnecessary from the interior of this body during its modification. Without vocal cords, she could only exhale air through the mouth-onahole — her version of a sigh. Perhaps someday she'd choose to devote the rest of her existence to her sexual appetite. But not today. She still had too many things she wanted to do.

More importantly, the probability of this body of hers being taken for a monster and immediately killed by innocent townspeople seemed significantly higher than the probability of being carried home by someone to be used in the way she was designed for.

To minimize the risk of being easily dispatched by normal humans — or captured and enslaved for life by humans with particular appetites — Alice located the large overcoat in her room within the facility. She wrapped herself in it, pulled on the long boots and gloves, put on a wide-brimmed hat and dark glasses, and wound a large scarf around her face. The result was an outfit that looked highly suspicious; the excessively round and prominent buttocks remained impossible to conceal; and the black latex that had become her skin would show itself at her forehead and similar places. But at least no one catching a distant glimpse of her would immediately raise an alarm.

There was one other issue: her chest had expanded enormously. Alice tried squeezing her breasts inward to fasten the coat buttons. But the pressure of glandular tissue against the vibrators in her breast-onaholes provided additional stimulation to the modified glands, and newly secreted milk — unable to exit through the stoppered onaholes — accumulated inside, inflating her already watermelon-sized breasts another few centimetres.

“Sss…!”

The features of Alice's face, sealed under latex inside the helmet, couldn't form expressions. The throat with its severed vocal cords couldn't produce sound. The plugged lower passages and breast-onaholes couldn't spray fluid. The prosthetics, unaffected by pleasure, held the coat front steady. Only the slight rocking of her waist — back and forth — told any observer what kind of pain and pleasure this compression was bringing her.

She panted heavily, the face mask pressing against the faintly raised red circle of her mouth, leaving a round outline at that position, the scorching breath that rushed through the hole dampening it, making the circle even more visible.

Her breasts were forcibly compressed beneath the coat, the entire chest and abdomen swollen to an unseemly bulge. The buttons were strained to their absolute limit, and through the gaps between them the black of the latex was just barely visible.

One last step before going out: Alice took the small triangle iron from her room wall and struck it three times.

Not far away, a canine creature with drooping ears raised its head and padded over at the sound.

Snowball apparently felt it had failed to watch the base properly, allowing the wild monster to damage the master's things. Alice had no intention of blaming it. At the root of the problem was her own failure to properly utilize the facility's various systems — a foolish error through and through.

“Sss—”

It had been a long time since the day she'd saved the gravely injured Silver Moon Demon Wolf, and after months of living together, the two had developed something like a mutual understanding. The creature was naturally intelligent to begin with, and even without prosthetic assistance, Snowball could generally follow Alice's meaning from her hissing sounds alone.

Snowball's expression grew serious — the look of something making a firm promise. Then its dog-sized body rapidly expanded, reclaiming its true form, and the great wolf began patrolling throughout the facility.

It would undoubtedly be much safer with Snowball escorting her — but the base had now been breached once, which meant there was every likelihood it would be breached again. If Alice and Snowball returned with a new energy core only to find the consciousness transfer equipment destroyed…

Sss. Alice shook her head. She preferred despair from the outset to the feeling of victory snatched away at the last moment.

She left through the hidden door concealed in the forest and bid Snowball farewell with her prosthetics and a soft exhalation.

“Sss—”

Alice moved her prosthetic legs — high-performance yet programmed to take only tiny steps — forward a few centimetres at a time, inching toward the location of the other ruin.

She could only hope she wouldn't run into any humans along the way, or if she did, that no one would see through her disguise.

Under the weight of all these restrictions, if anyone with so much as a trace of carnal intent caught sight of her, escape would be completely impossible. The latex doll prayed this as she went. But honestly — which self-respecting deity would protect a toy with its onaholes packed full of fake cocks?

II. A Tightening Net

Making a girl who never left the house walk ten kilometres in the wild was difficult — though not impossible. What Alice faced, however, was a different kind of difficulty entirely.

The chip built into the helmet ensured she wouldn't lose her way. Ancient technology in the pair of legs meant she wouldn't tire or fall. Her reinforced skin, while not impervious to blades or bullets, at least gave insects nothing to bite into. But beyond these advantages, everything else was working against Alice, making every step a struggle.

“Sss… huu…”

A sigh was generated in the throat without vocal cords, travelled through the oral cavity that had become a round hole, past the tongue sealed by latex into the lower jaw, and flowed out through the permanently circular red mouth-onahole.

Alice had no heart for looking back. Her eyes were permanently sealed under black latex that couldn't be removed, and she could only see the outside world through the device on her helmet's forehead. This thing called a camera had a non-rotating thirty-degree field of view — meaning that if she wanted to see how far she'd come from the base, she had to turn her entire body around and face the base's direction head-on.

Alice had no time for such indulgences.

She no longer had limbs, and these mechanical legs, strictly limited in their programming, would only move freely to catch her when she was about to fall. Otherwise, they advanced in fifteen-centimetre steps, tip-toeing with feet arched to their limit, slowly, in tiny increments.

From life experience, she could normally walk about four kilometres an hour. At this cramped shuffling pace, her speed was probably one-tenth of that. Which meant this ten-kilometre journey — even ignoring any necessary detours — would take a full twenty-five hours. Accounting for detours, even if she spent every waking moment walking, it would take two full days.

On the surface, seven days of prosthetic charge seemed more than adequate. But there was one destabilizing factor that couldn't be ignored.

Alice dipped her head forward, tilting the non-rotating camera lens of her helmet downward. The brown overcoat stretched to its limits across her body filled her field of view, the buttons straining, the black of the latex visible through the gaps in the fabric and almost certainly about to burst through.

This garment wasn't going to hold much longer.

It wasn't a question of the fabric's tensile limits. Alice could clearly feel the thick fake cocks slowly buzzing inside her breast-onaholes, and the breasts that secreted milk even without additional stimulation were now responding to that extra vibration with enthusiastic production. With the breast-onahole vibrators firmly blocking the only exit, the milk was accumulating inside, inflating her slowly but irreversibly.

Her transplanted latex skin could ensure the breasts swelled without bursting even if they expanded to the point where another full Alice might fit inside them — but they were drawing on the magical energy in the modified body to do it, meaning the actual size and weight were genuinely, physically increasing.

She could already feel it — the pressure of the two breasts pressing against each other was stronger than when she'd left. The unsecured masses were pushing outward in every direction, gradually spreading and expanding along the contour of her ribcage.

After so much self-conditioning, she could endure the pleasure of the swelling without losing her reason — but once the coat split open and a pair of balance-destroying monstrous breasts came bursting out… Alice wasn't sure she'd still be able to walk with things like that hanging off her.

“Huu… sss…”

The voiceless young woman exhaled a scorching breath through her mouth-onahole, the helmet's auxiliary pickup and the collar's basic sound ports substituting for her permanently blocked ears and letting her hear her own sigh. The more she thought about the state of her body, the more she fixated on the slow vibrations in each of her onaholes.

This can't continue. Being dragged to death in the wilderness by a pair of enormous breasts was absolutely a worse ending than spending the rest of her life as a stranger's flesh receptacle. Alice had to find a way to break past the movement speed limit of these prosthetic legs.

How? Their performance was genuinely excellent — within their operating parameters, they would prevent her from falling under any circumstances. But she had programmed them not to take large active steps.

So. Passive large steps, then.

Alice nodded to herself, quite satisfied with this idea that had surfaced from her poor brain — addled by the pressure of the swollen breasts and the vibrations in both onaholes. She really was a genius.

She extended both arms forward, tilted her upper body ahead, abandoning the slight backward lean that had been counterbalancing the weight of her enormous breasts, and deliberately shifted her entire centre of gravity to a position where any normal person would inevitably pitch forward onto their face.

If she actually fell, the impact on the breast-onaholes' vibrators would most likely trigger an orgasm intense enough to knock her unconscious, wasting a massive amount of precious time. But it was a necessary risk.

Alice bit down on the circular gag-ring cemented permanently in her mouth with her weakened jaw muscles and her gums reshaped after the tooth extraction, watching through the camera interface as the ground rushed up—

The expected pull-along sensation transmitted from the handles at both leg stumps! The prosthetics, desperate to prevent the forward-tilting body from falling, rapidly scrambled to catch up with the dangerously advanced centre of gravity! The quick, urgent footsteps were energetic enough to set Alice's enormous breasts swaying — and the second button of the overcoat snapped open.

“Huu huu—!”

The voiceless young woman produced her version of a cheer. And then her own voice sounded in her mind.

“Beep beep! A behaviour has been detected that is in the process of violating the self-conditioning rules! My, my — you can't trick yourself, dear me ♡”

Alice's body jolted hard. A chill rushed upward from somewhere below the hips that had no legs, straight to the top of her head.

This was not internal monologue or hallucination. It was ancient technology, bypassing the helmet's sound receiver and projecting sound directly into her mind.

Her foggy brain had finally, belatedly remembered: over a week ago, when she still had vocal cords, she had recorded this message onto the equipment she was going to have herself wear. Specifically, during the configuration and programming session for this entire lewd apparatus.

This ancient-technology collar could convert her thoughts directly into corresponding actions from the prosthetics — making her fingers automatically lose strength when she tried to pull out the vibrators, or adjust the navel control. To accomplish this, the collar read her thoughts as a matter of course and cross-referenced them against reality.

And so she had been able to write in certain commands and settings, designed to force her future self to recognize her identity and understand that she was a toy that any human could freely use — one who didn't even have the right to run away.

Whatever clever means her future self might devise to fully leverage the prosthetics' capabilities and escape some entertaining situation — so long as Alice herself, in her own thoughts, recognized that she was cheating, the anti-cheat mode on all her lewd equipment would activate directly.

In Alice's field of view, her prosthetic arms moved beyond her control. An irresistible force transmitted from the handles at her shoulder stumps and hauled her torso, leaning as far forward as it could go, back to a fully upright position.

The prosthetic legs, which had been scrambling to maintain balance, stopped. Then the two leg prosthetics slowly parted, and she was made to squat, the mechanical arms curling in at either side of her enormous breasts into a cat-paw shape, the whole pose forced into the textbook presentation-of-oneself posture.

And so Alice found herself presenting the latex perineum between her coat and her long boots to the empty air ahead of her. Her glossy black enormous rear hung slightly downward, two giant vibrators firmly plugged into her pussy and rear entrance, the grey bases and red handles creating a vivid contrast with the ring of deep-red passage flesh.

Whether to call it unfortunate or fortunate — there was no one in the forest to appreciate this alluring scene.

“Guh… sss…”

This anti-cheat punishment would last three hours. During that time, the prosthetics' charge was draining away minute by minute; the breasts that in a matter of days would become too heavy for the body to support were continuing their slow, irreversible inflation; her hope of returning to her human body was growing dimmer and dimmer. Yet, the only things she could do were: feel the moist breeze passing over her latex skin, listen via bone conduction to her own heartbeat and the faint buzzing of the fake cocks in her onaholes.

Alice furiously cursed in her mind the version of herself that had programmed in so much conditioning material. If she could go back in time, she'd have her past self's four limbs cut off then and there and make her into a flesh receptacle.

Move! Move now! I don't have time for this!

Alice strained to twist her shoulders and waist, but the prosthetics had been fully commandeered by the punishment routine. Her shoulders and hips were welded in place, and no matter how she writhed and struggled, the prosthetics made only the minimum motion necessary to maintain postural stability.

“Oh my oh my — has my dear self gotten into some trouble? Still struggling after the punishment? Let me help you with your little difficulty ♡”

Her own delighted voice rang out in her mind again, and the second phase of anti-cheat activation, which Alice remembered, was—

“Sss huu—!! Sss—”

Alice shook her head frantically, twisted her waist — completely useless.

In her field of view, the right prosthetic arm traced an elegant arc and moved to the navel control, pressing down firmly.

“Ten. Nine.”

The countdown sounded in her mind.

She had less than ten seconds to resolve this.

“Eight. Seven.”

Think of something! After ten seconds of long-press I'll be shut down! My consciousness will be forcibly interrupted!

“Six. Five.”

And in this stupid spread-knees-and-squat posture the prosthetics won't enter sleep mode to save power!

“Four. Three~”

More importantly, even if my consciousness is interrupted, this body still needs to breathe and take in a little nutrition!

“Two. One~ ♡”

If I get shut down in the wilderness like this I'll inevitably be—

“Beep— ♡”

—starved to death…? ♡!! Σ~☆!!?

The pleasure that had accumulated in the body during her period of unconsciousness rushed inward all at once!

Her breasts and buttocks were bitten simultaneously by hundreds of sharp fangs, pointed objects wedging into skin that had been modified to be as sensitive as a sex organ, pleasure threatening to pierce straight through her.

The swollen ache from her breasts was as though she had spent a lifetime without being milked. Alice couldn't even feel the shape of her own enlarged chest any more.

As for her breast-onaholes and both lower passages — during what had functioned as a temporal suspension for Alice, the slow buzzing pleasure from the fake cocks had been accumulating too, and now pushed her instantly to the peak of sensation.

Arousal fluid and milk were dammed up inside her, the pent-up pressure keeping her pinned at the crest of climax with nowhere to fall. Fragrant sweat was secreted across her body's surface, passing through the hydrophobic latex skin and streaming smoothly down in drops.

Alice convulsed violently. Her eyes, useless save for tears, rolled back beneath the helmet and the latex. The throat without vocal cords produced a silent scream. The orgasm accumulated during the unconscious interval crashed through her debauched soul like a tsunami rolling a small dinghy.

“Sss… sss…!”

After some indeterminate time, Alice slowly settled. The visual and auditory information transmitted into her mind from the helmet became meaningful again. She endured the pleasure still reverberating through her body and began to comprehend her situation.

She seemed to be lying on her back now. She slowly lowered her head and looked at her body, fluid draining from the mouth-onahole.

The prosthetics were still holding the spread-knees-squat posture, making her look like an overturned frog — though this also meant the unconscious period had been less than a week, the prosthetics still had power, and there was still hope.

The overcoat, boots, and gloves had been gnawed to tatters by some kind of wild animal. The body wrapped in ancient latex, and the precious prosthetics, were completely undamaged thanks to the ancient creators' technology. The biting pain she'd felt on waking in various parts of her body was presumably from those teeth pressing through the impervious latex, and while the latex surface was unbreakable, the tearing sensation in her muscles and internal organs still confirmed she'd been significantly injured.

She also owed some gratitude to the beast that had taken her for food. Without this “predation,” she would have either starved to death while unconscious or — if lucky — been picked up by a hunter and spent the rest of her life as a masturbation aid.

Alice looked at the vulture standing on her stomach, pecking one-two-one-two at the latex skin trying to tear off a piece of flesh. It had presumably accidentally stepped on the navel control, activating Alice's switch.

“Sss… huu…”

She was genuinely grateful to it — but being pecked on the stomach was fairly painful.

The prosthetics' control had been returned to her by the collar. Alice waved an arm, and the large, non-aggressive bird spread its wings, gave Alice's stomach one last shove with its talons, and departed.

Alice tried to stand. But it was only now that she noticed — or was forced to admit — that the intense sense of encumbrance she had been feeling all along wasn't a lingering after-effect of being shut down too long, and the extreme swollen pain in her chest wasn't pleasure accumulated during the shutdown. It was her breasts, which had stored far too much milk.

She exhaled in despair and looked at the enormous breasts that had grown to the size of wine barrels. Those two black globes, large enough to fit the former version of herself inside, occupied the entire lower half of her field of view. Her arms could only be seen after stretching them up past the breasts.

Since she'd stood up, the prosthetic legs had been making tiny adjustments, trying to recover balance under a load that had grown far too large and heavy. The prosthetics were excellently designed, but the thin pointed tips that had been configured to resemble extreme high heels, combined with the completely blocked field of view from the chest that made the path ahead invisible, made simply staying upright enormously difficult. Moving forward became even slower, each tiny advance consuming more of an unknown remaining charge.

Who had reconfigured the prosthetics from their original flat-footed design into a high-heeled format? That would be the damned Alice, naturally.

Worse still, having been in the wilderness without landmarks, Alice had no idea in which direction or how far the unnamed wild animal had dragged her unconscious body. She could only use the compass in her collar to head toward the direction of the first facility. She was no longer on the route she'd originally planned, and going in a straight line might actually mean encountering obstacles that forced detours or backtracking.

Can things get worse? Alice lamented inwardly.

They could.

The next instant, the fake cocks in her breast-onaholes, pussy, and rear onahole began vibrating with a fury, the vibrations so violent they made an audible thudding sound, accompanied by electrical charges slamming into Alice's already-fragile passage walls.

The instantaneous shocks caused all the passages to contract violently, gripping the shuddering fake cocks more tightly. Latex passage walls ten times as sensitive as a normal human's transmitted pleasure and pain that would render anyone unconscious flooding directly into Alice's mind—

If she had been mentally prepared, she might perhaps have been able to withstand it. But the only thing she could do right now was curse the vulture that had shifted her navel control on the way out, and hope she managed to get that out before the orgasm knocked her unconscious.

When the noon sun was covered by clouds, this round of randomly triggered level-three vibration and electrical discharge finally stopped. Alice pulled her consciousness up from the haze of orgasm.

“Sss… huu…”

Alice breathed with the weakness of hunger, waiting for the tingling in her onaholes to subside and strength to return to her body.

Three days had passed since she woke. Averaging out, every half hour or so these vibrators would activate and discharge, stimulating her to the edge of unconsciousness and leaving her collapsed on the ground unable to move. Each time the random vibration ended, she had to haul her orgasm-exhausted body upright, carry her increasingly enormous breasts, move her increasingly slow legs, endure a thirst and hunger sufficient to make her abandon hope, and keep going forward.

The level-three discharge and vibrations were pleasant enough to make one forget the situation, but the moment the orgasm ended, and she remembered that these meaningless vibrations were consuming an unknown amount of remaining charge — and that they also stimulated her chest to produce more milk, making it larger and slower — all Alice felt was anxiety and agitation.

She just wanted to get up as quickly as possible and walk toward the base of the mountain not far away. No matter how slowly she moved in fits and starts, the distance wouldn't grow any greater. At this point, the entrance to the facility holding the energy core was visible at the root of a large tree within her line of sight. She knew the code. Once she reached that second ancient ruin and charged the prosthetics, the problem would be more than half solved.

She was now about an hour's walk from her target.

Though if it were someone with all four limbs intact, they'd need only five minutes to get there.

Alice smiled bitterly in her mind, reaching out to brace against a nearby tree as she tried to rise.

But only the prosthetic legs responded to her intention. The arm prosthetics no longer moved.

A wave of dizziness and despair surged through her. Tears welled from the eyelids that could no longer open, passed through the liquid-permeable latex over her cheeks, and flowed out from under the helmet.

The prosthetics had entered emergency power-saving mode. This meant the prosthetic arms' charge had reached critical level. In ten minutes at most, she would become a completely immobile human torso, placed in the wilderness to starve to death.

She was still this far from the entrance. She definitely wasn't going to make it.

She no longer had the capacity even for self-recrimination. Her mind held only despair.

It's over.

III. Salvation

Isa set down the basket, half-full of herbs, and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

She hadn't been lying about coming to the distant Red Crown Forest to gather a rare medicinal herb — that was true. But it was also not her fundamental reason for being here.

The tawny-skinned young woman touched her waist, where an oversized outer garment was tied, its sleeves swaying with each step against her full, prominent buttocks. She glanced at the herb basket, where a roll of soft, long white cloth strip — bearing a faint cream scent — was wrapped around one of the shoulder straps. That was her chest binding.

Her upper body was bare, only the lower half properly clothed in trousers.

This was why she had needed to be alone for the past several days. Isa sighed and cupped her papaya-like enormous breasts in both hands. With just this light, gentle action, her milk began to flow from her deep-red nipples, running along the rounded beauty of the lower curves, past her waistline, disappearing into her waistband.

Since the day she'd tasted a little of Alice's gift out of curiosity, Isa's body had been undergoing strange and troubling changes.

Most immediately: these enormous breasts. Her chest before could be called large — she needed the biggest bras available, though at least they didn't lactate without pregnancy. But since drinking the latex doll's milk, her breasts had started producing milk, and had inflated at alarming speed, their output increasing, surpassing the normal range of large breasts within three days — even after daily milking they shrank back only a little, and she could no longer fit into the largest available bra. Isa had been forced to rely on chest bindings to keep them from being too conspicuous.

This made another problem considerably worse — pressing toward urgency.

The other change those mouthfuls of sweet milk had brought was heightened sensitivity, making Isa easier to overwhelm and cloud. Before, her nipples only stiffened when she was thinking about sex. Now, the mere contact of her three intimate areas against soft underwear produced a faint, intermittent pleasure, and whenever she bound her papaya-sized breasts with the chest binding, the compressed chest would simultaneously secrete large quantities of milk beyond her control while sending wave after wave of floating, prolonged pleasure throughout her body.

With the binding on her head went hazy, and she had nearly greeted a complete stranger with “please have sex with me” — that was something Isa absolutely never wanted to experience again.

So that was where Alice's borrowed toy came in — the fake cock from the latex doll's mouth. Because the shape happened to fit, and she didn't have the face to go buy one herself, Isa had kept it for personal use. Adjusting the handle at the base changed the vibration amplitude or even released electric current. The shape and material were comfortable, and it worked perfectly well even just for thrusting. Since the day she'd nearly propositioned the stranger, Isa had kept it inside her pussy consistently, and although wearing it was occasionally inconvenient, it was immediately effective at dampening her arousal.

The only imperfection was that during self-satisfaction, milk inevitably sprayed everywhere, soaking through the binding and overflowing onto the outer garment. Dampening the front of the garment in front of others, with the faint hum from her lower body, cheeks flushed — something like that…

Before any of this had happened to her, her best friend Alice had always teased her to go work at the town's pleasure district, not to waste such an impressive pair. Now, looking at the way customers' eyes tracked to her damp shirt, Isa was beginning to worry about her future. At this rate, she might really end up with no choice but that avenue after all.

Isa shook her head to end the reminiscence. She had come outdoors under the pretence of gathering herbs specifically to have somewhere her enormous breasts could be free — but since she still bore the name of herb-gatherer, she had to finish the job properly.

The tawny-skinned young woman bent toward the plants on the ground, her plump, generous breasts changing shape under gravity, swinging heavily downward. When her deep-red nipples and areolae brushed against slightly tall wild grass, Isa couldn't help making small, involuntary sounds, milk spraying outward in several streams at once, the central stream from the nipple itself especially thick — as if the opening might accommodate a spindle pushed into it.

Isa hadn't dared try. She was afraid that once she did, there would be no going back. The image of Alice's borrowed doll was vividly clear in her memory — the round red openings from which milk flowed, normally plugged by enormous fake cocks of that size. Humming away.

“Sss haa…”

Isa adjusted her breathing, pushing the stray thoughts out of her mind. Though she was alone in the wilderness and could masturbate completely naked with no consequences, the work in her hands had to be finished first.

First things first, right?

…Right.

The young woman, wearing nothing but her footwear, crouched on the ground, legs naturally parted, displaying her fake-cock-plugged pussy to the empty forest. A pair of shamefully enormous breasts hung in front, nearly obscuring her private area.

She had folded all her clothing into the bottom of the herb basket. This meant getting dressed again would take time to rummage for them — though it didn't really matter. If someone from town found her before she could get dressed, she could offer her first time in exchange for silence, which would also give her one more option for when she couldn't hold out. If that happened, she supposed everyone in town would eventually have seen her body… and if everyone had already seen it, maybe she wouldn't need to wear clothes any more? Walking around bare all day like a dairy cow, nipples, and pussy exposed whenever…

Stop — only thinking about it and already about to go. Isa hurriedly tossed the herbs in her hands into the basket and reached for the fake cock that was starting to slip from her pussy. The urgency of the movement caused her arm to press against the shameful enormous breasts, and milk and arousal fluid sprayed simultaneously.

“Ugh, damn—!”

Isa instinctively clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her climax cry, the other hand catching the spurting heavy nipple, extending the glorious pleasure. A stream of liquid broke free through her urethra, pattering down onto the grass, already drenched in arousal fluid and milk.

“Haah… you can only climax and urinate at the same time out here in the wilderness… ♡”

The young woman murmured in a faintly trembling voice and picked up from the ground the fake cock that had slipped from her pussy during the excess of arousal fluid. She was just pulling a handful of grass to wipe the mess from it, when she felt a faint, indistinct pull, transmitting itself to her from the toy.

Alice shuffled forward in a daze.

The arm prosthetics, drained of charge, hung heavy from her shoulders, adding to the already unbearable burden of the swollen-breast-induced shoulder ache. Her head drooped uselessly, but she couldn't see her own feet — the lower half of her visual field was entirely two enormous glossy black spheres.

The strictly limited leg prosthetics advanced centimetre by centimetre, the force field assisting balance wasting what little remained of the power while further restricting the length of each step — yet it couldn't be disabled without a fall becoming inevitable.

This wasted power was entirely attributable to those breasts, fed by three days' worth of milk accumulated under the alternating vibration and electrical discharge stimulation, and now swollen so large that even standing they nearly reached the ground. The high-heel-format prosthetic feet would have sent her pitching forward even with four legs to support her, without the balance field.

Five minutes had passed since the arm prosthetics went dead and stopped functioning. In theory, five more minutes and the legs would also stop, turning Alice into a completely useless object collapsed on the ground, awaiting whatever fate arranged. The destination was still so far away — there was no possibility of reaching it.

Perhaps she was just trying to witness how far she could still walk before the end. Perhaps she was still clinging to the slim hope that the ancient technology had some hidden reserve power that would carry her the few hundred remaining meters to the concealed facility for recharging.

But this slim hope collapsed in the opposite direction. Perhaps because too many years had passed, or because carrying the overloaded breasts had raised the prosthetics' energy consumption, these legs did not last their predicted duration — they lost power three minutes before schedule.

The ever-present force field hum, so constant it had become like a heartbeat or breath, something Alice no longer consciously heard, went silent. All four prosthetics — not actually heavy — settled lightly down.

And the enormous breasts, freed from the balance field, dragged Alice's body toward the earth. Alice was borne down onto her own chest-spheres, tipping forward, the face inside the helmet making contact with the ground.

The sensitive, aching breasts struck the earth, the fake cocks inside them pushed back by the impact and thrust hard against the inner walls of the breast-onaholes — delivering to Alice her final, most utterly desperate orgasm.

“Sss…”

The helmet's lens was now pressed into the mud, serving as the pivot point bearing what remained of her weight, unable to move. The enormous breasts that should have allowed minimal movement after modification had, through their excessive swelling, become the greatest liability of all. At this point, beyond lying with head and chest to the ground in an inverted position, Alice had only one thing left to do — wait to die.

It's completely over. Alice's mind was numb and sorrowful. She should have asked Snowball to take her back to town and back to Isa's farm. At least she could have lived on as a machine for producing milk-quality enhancer for the dairy cows, rather than dying alone in the forest as a latex human torso.

〖 A D O L L T H A T P R O D U C E S M I L K 〗

The phrase drifted hazily through her mind — the ending she had been wishing for.

Really now — dying in the wilderness, starting to dream of the farm I can never return to?

But when a real human hand touched Alice's enormous rear, she snapped instantly back from her dazed despair. That hand gripped the handle across what had once been her thigh and flipped her forward-falling body backward, using the breast-spheres as a pivot.

The auxiliary pickup at the top of the helmet left its close acquaintance with the soil, and the sounds Alice received returned to their genuine quality.

“…Really is it, huh. Hm — these weird-looking arms and legs are way lighter than they look.”

Through the latex on her face and the helmet, Alice stared at her best friend. Isa. She had no idea why Isa was completely naked and examining her detached prosthetics, but the feeling of sitting on the ground transmitted through her enormous rear was no illusion, and the aching pressure inside her breasts was stimulating her nerves very really. The joy of salvation from the edge of death cleared her head considerably.

“Huu sss—!”

After despair and ordeal, Alice no longer cared that her best friend now knew she was this depraved of a woman. She only wanted to reclaim her hope of survival as quickly as possible.

Alice simultaneously drew a sharp breath through her permanently-open mouth-onahole and shook her shoulders violently. She had never regretted anything more than stripping away her own ability to speak. The lamp on her helmet could represent different meanings through different colours, but without comprehension it was meaningless.

Still — Isa was smart. Surely, she could figure it out.

“Uh — do you mean this?”

The naked young woman crouching beside her stood up. Isa's rose-pink delicate pussy had a grey-based red-handled fake cock very visibly planted inside it. Her capable fingers closed around the handle and pulled out the dripping tool, gave it a quick wipe on a handful of grass, and moved to push it into Alice's mouth-onahole.

“Sss huu huu huu—!”

Alice's forehead light flashed red as she strained to shake her head — limited by the collar to barely moving at all. Isa, like a kitten discovering a toy that moves, flinched back. She brought the fake cock back and reinserted it into her own pussy.

“Honestly, what am I scared of… Also, — you can actually hear what I'm saying?”

The tawny-skinned young woman murmured to herself, and Alice realized: this was her only chance to establish communication with Isa and thereby be rescued.

So the black latex doll's forehead lit green, and she nodded firmly.

Thank you, ancient inventors of the nod and head-shake.

“Green means yes, and red means no — right?”

Though Isa was a farm girl, she was still someone Alice valued, naturally possessed of the ability to find the key point quickly. Confirming the intelligence of her best friend in such extremity, Alice wept with excitement inside her helmet, tears passing through the latex and flowing out from the helmet's seam to below the collar.

And absolutely not forgetting to nod and flash green at the same time.

“Then — let me put it differently: red means 'yes' and green means 'no' — right?”

Red light. Head shake.

“Right, I understand. So you don't need to nod or shake your head any more?”

Green light.

“You're so much smarter than the mechanical people they have in the big cities… are you really an ancient artifact?”

Alice hesitated. If Isa truly realized what kind of woman she was, how would she mock her? No — compared to the risk of not establishing proper communication and ending up left out in the wilderness, this tiny matter of dignity was genuinely nothing.

Besides, she'd now technically witnessed Isa in the nude in the wilderness.

Alice let her forehead light up red.

“Ehh ehh… so you're a living thing… don't tell me you're a person?! My god — what on earth would make someone do this to themselves…!”

Isa took a small step back. A small spurt of urine and milk accompanied the motion, and her face went flushed.

Could it be… no, rather — how fitting that this person was capable of becoming her best friend. Birds of a feather indeed — though Alice and she had not exactly done anything of that nature before.

Alice considered this, and lit the yellow light on her forehead — this question couldn't be answered with yes or no, or rather it wasn't quite a question.

“Ah right, that's not something you can answer with yes or no… are you a person? Or — were you once a person?”

Green light.

“Uwah… what happened to make you like this… did you commit a crime? Were you captured by a villain? Did you have a disease that would kill you unless you became like this?”

Red. Red. Red.

“Could it possibly be… you wanted… for erotic… reasons… to be modified of your own free will?”

Alice let out a long exhale and lit green.

Why was her best friend pursuing this to the end in such an embarrassing direction?

At the confirmation from the latex doll, Isa's face immediately went even redder. She pressed her thighs together, her inner thighs stained with honey, and her thick nipples began spraying milk.

“H-how can there be someone like this… so shameless… I even thought you were a tool… uu…”

The farm girl with her enormous breasts said she didn't know what to do with herself, but her hands had simultaneously grabbed her own nipple and were working the fake cock inside her pussy with its handle.

Watching her best friend excitedly aroused, Alice herself was inappropriately turned on. The time and place were both wrong, but after all the self-conditioning she'd undergone, she had long since become someone who lost all sense when she got aroused. Yet, she had no limbs with which to touch herself, and the toys inside her weren't under her control. Though the fake cocks inside her would randomly vibrate and shock at this setting, they followed one principle: they would absolutely not activate when Alice was aroused, and they would absolutely activate when Alice had completely forgotten about them.

Since there was no way to get relief, Alice could only turn her head away and not watch her naked best friend masturbating freely, working to think about other things to defuse the arousal — but her best friend's delicate moaning was like an aphrodisiac, making her body hotter. She twisted her shoulders helplessly, her forehead flickering yellow.

Everything besides yes and no could only be represented by yellow — like the current “I desperately want to be fucked by a big cock.”

A series of fuzzy imaginings — herself modified into a lewd doll, casually used by people she knew and didn't know — swirled in Isa's mind, finally scattered by the intense pleasure arriving from her sex.

“Haah… aah~ ♡ I absolutely won't, absolutely won't become like that… ♡ Won't~ going, going ahh ahh ahh ahh~ ♡”

Completely unconcerned about whether other people might be in the forest, Isa let herself cry out freely, her hips involuntarily thrusting forward, trembling, spraying arousal fluid and milk toward the black doll in front of her.

The spattering liquid fell on the glossy black latex-wrapped body and immediately rolled down the smooth surface — yet it made her shiver as if in response to a caress.

The scene before her eyes was blurred through white haze, past erotic memories rising uncontrolled in her mind. Isa regulated her breathing, sorting through the thoughts made chaotic by the overwhelming desire that had suddenly surged.

But in the midst of the disorder, Isa suddenly thought of her best friend Alice's mechanical chair — the one on the shelf in Alice's attic, which she'd stumbled upon once by accident, the one that had made her blush to the roots just looking at it. The various cock-shaped mechanical devices on that chair made its purpose self-evident.

Alice was a girl who was outrageously lewd behind closed doors, which explained why she had various inexplicable mechanical contraptions at home. She had been gone from town for a very long time at this supposed academy Isa had never heard of, yet she'd sent Isa this obscenely modified person. And during the process of extracting the modified person's milk to improve the farm's dairy quality, the doll had been visibly blissful.

Well, it was just a hypothesis anyway.

Isa regulated her breathing, letting out white vapour as she crouched before the lewd doll.

“Huu… huu… ♡ Outrageous… absolutely outrageous… ♡ Say — I wonder… you're not… Alice, are you?”

Before the young woman, this hopelessly depraved latex doll turned the head inside its oval helmet to one side. The breath expelled through the red mouth-onahole was also tinged with white.

Then the doll's forehead lit green.

IV. Laying It All Bare

Through the colour signals of the helmet lamp, Isa confirmed one thing: the limbless latex sex doll before her was her best friend — the one who was supposedly away studying at a school in another city — Alice.

When she'd asked “are you Alice?”, Isa had thought she was prepared. Receiving the affirmative, however, she was still deeply shaken by what lay behind it.

The best friend who over all these years of friendship had presented a pure, sweet face to the world, internally a slow-burn type but always calm and rational — had willingly given up her human identity to satisfy her own desires, and reduced herself to a doll like this, without even four limbs, open for anyone she encountered to humiliate and play with freely.

Isa pressed her thighs together. The passage walls squeezing the fake cock inside her brought intense feedback — but couldn't dissolve the aching itch rising from somewhere deeper.

If Alice could become like this… could I?

Isa was frightened by this thought, yet couldn't stop herself from continuing to pursue it.

If her own four limbs were cut off, and she was wrapped in black latex and placed in a shop on the pleasure street — then, no matter how roughly any visiting customer treated her, there would be complete inability to resist.

Formidable fake cocks inserted in both lower passages, the rear passage ruined beyond its original function — she'd either have to use priestly spirit-berries daily to prevent waste product formation, or wear something like this every day to prevent leakage. And the breast-onaholes — a passage that couldn't normally be penetrated, now able to receive men. She hadn't tried it herself, but she couldn't even find a small opening in her nipple to begin with — whereas a modified breast-onahole could take a cock. Isa vaguely remembered the novel pleasure of the first time she'd tried inserting a finger into her pussy. If the breast-onahole was also uncharted territory…

Perhaps she was about to make a decision she would regret. Or perhaps not making that decision would be her lifelong regret.

She covered her mouth with one hand, practiced to be long and strong from farm work, while the other kneaded her bare nipple, dissipating the arousal that had risen from fantasy, concealing her own wavering.

“Haah… haah… ♡ Just recently still telling me my chest is so big my only future is the pleasure street~ ♡ And now here you are, haah… willingly becoming this kind of thing, only able to be played with for the rest of your life… Alice, what a slow-burning little deviant you are~ If everyone in town found out, what would they think ♡”

The current Alice might have wanted to retort something, but her mouth had become a permanently round-gaping latex flesh-hole. Where her tongue ought to be, and everywhere else inside the mouth-onahole, was indistinguishable — all the same deep-red latex circle.

“Sss… sss…”

Her mouth-onahole expelled bursts of warm breath, and the lamp on her forehead shifted to yellow. This represented meaning beyond yes or no — which Isa didn't find surprising because the teasing remark couldn't be answered with yes or no.

So what should be done next?

The warm current of arousal still hovered at its peak, making Isa's bare outdoor body scorching hot, her jellified legs struggling to support her, so she sank down naturally into a kneel. The ground pressed against the base of the fake cock, holding it steadily in the onahole teetering at the edge of orgasm.

Not yet — if she came right now it would feel wonderful, but afterward the heightened emotion would cool and the intense embarrassment that followed would wash up, and she'd be laughed at by a latex toy.

No — perhaps she didn't actually mind being laughed at by a latex toy, and what she was actually anticipating was making that decision while still running hot.

Isa thought: she'd come outdoors to gather herbs under that cover, specifically to have somewhere to free these enormous breasts. Since she was supposedly gathering herbs, taking extra time in the wilderness wasn't a problem — she could just say the herbs were hard to find on the way back.

And now given the situation — knowing this doll capable of producing milk-quality enhancer from its breasts was actually her best friend Alice — the option of bringing her back for the farm's income was naturally something to refuse. Isa wasn't that heartless, and didn't want to be.

In that case, …

“Huu… jokes aside. In your current state — do you need my help, Alice?”

Isa moved the fingers that had drifted unconsciously to her chin while thinking, rose from her long kneel, her knees sinking into the soft forest soil, and bent slightly forward looking down at the latex human-torso on the ground. Because of her enormous breasts' weight, she instinctively let her smooth bare back angle backward.

Finally, — the question she urgently needed!

Alice immediately let her forehead light up green. Though she could now communicate with Isa to some extent, three-color lamp signals couldn't convey complex meaning — which meant Alice couldn't proactively introduce topics, only hope Isa guided the conversation toward what she needed and then provide affirmative responses.

Alice currently had many pressing problems that required assistance from a human with functioning limbs. Most fundamentally: getting to the facility a few hundred meters away so she could recharge the prosthetics.

Two other major problems also urgently needed solving. First, these breasts had grown so large she couldn't even squirm her latex torso body any more — and this could be largely resolved the moment someone pulled out the fake cocks in her breast-onaholes, which even with charged prosthetics she had no authority to remove herself.

The last problem was that before coming out here, a wild bird had shifted her navel control to level-three random vibration mode, and if while communicating with Isa—

Alice's breathing paused for a beat. These four fake cocks inside her hadn't moved in nearly twenty minutes. By consistent logic, after this long an interval, with her actively worrying about whether they'd start — they should begin violently vibrating and discharging, reducing her to ecstasy.

Fortunately — no vibration had started.

“So… first of all — do you need me to free those breasts that are about to burst? After all, Alice doesn't have arms to pull them out herself~”

The naked best friend in front of her smiled mischievously and poked Alice's breasts — the pair now large enough to lie on.

Alice had many things she'd have liked to say in response, but before reclaiming her original body and regaining the ability to speak, she could only light her forehead green in agreement, then watch as her best friend's hands reached toward the vision blocked by her enormous breasts, feeling the fake cocks in her breast-onaholes being touched.

And just that touch — after so many days of starvation — was like an electric shock to the hungry breast-onaholes.

“Sss… sss…”

This body that had Alice locked inside had no vocal cords. Even though the fake cocks were rubbing against breast-onahole walls ten times as sensitive as a normal girl's clitoris, she couldn't colour the sound of her breathing with any note of desire. Her brows and eyes were sealed beneath black latex and the helmet, leaving her unable to express pleasure through expression. Her limbless torso trembled and twisted, and the climax fluid was blocked by the perfectly-fitted fake cocks, not a drop able to escape.

“So tight~ still this tight even though you've inflated this much~ If I had a cock, I might not be able to stop myself from pushing in and being wrung dry by you ♡”

Isa's teasing words couldn't be directly heard by Alice, but she still worked to distinguish them, preventing any distortion in the communication thread. No matter how pleasant the current relief felt, she couldn't become too comfortable and forget her purpose.

Pop!

Like the sound of a tightly-fitted cork being pulled from a wine bottle.

Immediately after, a surging pleasure capable of destroying composure swirled into Alice's mind! The enormous volume of milk that had accumulated in the breast for days on end — inflating the pair of breasts into a mattress — was finally liberated, and the immense internal pressure drove the milk in a panicked rush all at once toward the tiny breast-onahole! The desperate urgency of the collision expanded even the onahole outward from the internal pressure, the tender onahole flesh scoured by the churning, every stream of milk at high pressure slicing like a razor across the sensitive passage walls!

This was no longer a figure of speech — Alice's breasts at this moment were functionally equivalent to the fountain in the main square of a large city, and the milk column emerging from them would give that fountain strong competition.

“Sss… sss…”

Alice's waist arched backward, her head swaying left and right, forced to absorb this inescapable pain and pleasure. Were it not for all the self-conditioning that had come before, a stimulus like this delivered directly would undoubtedly have caused her reason to gush out along with this sea of milk. She would have become a complete idiot.

Unlike the stimulation from fake cocks in the passages, the pleasure from lactating decreased with the dropping pressure inside the breasts — the weakening stream allowing the breast-onaholes to gradually relax. Even if the first few seconds of pleasure nearly made Alice faint immediately, the subsequently diminishing sensation gave her breathing room.

Alice exhaled warm air, looking at her black breast-spheres — now back to being only slightly larger than Isa's remarkable pair — watching the enormous quantity of sprayed milk gradually soak into the forest soil, listening to the sound of Isa sitting in her milk and fondling herself. The torso-girl's mind held nothing but the blankness and satisfaction of post-orgasm.

Her belly was still distorted by two oversized vibrators, and combined with the arousal fluid that had accumulated in her womb over all these days, her abdomen probably looked like an advanced pregnancy. Under the concealment of her enormous breasts, she still couldn't see her own belly.

Through the helmet's camera, Alice watched Isa throw back her head in a long cry of climax. Once satisfied, her best friend stood up on unsteady legs and walked toward her again.

“That was quite something — all that milk wasted~ Though there wasn't much to be done, since the way Alice looked just then, I couldn't have moved you anyway~”

“Next — shall I help pull out the two below as well?”

If her pussy and rear were also emptied, this debauched body of hers would quickly grow unbearably hungry. But Alice had no way to proactively bring Isa around to the navel control, so she could only light green in agreement.

Because — if while talking with Isa about something important these two devices started their level-three vibration — one disrupted conversation was a minor problem, but if level-three rendered her incoherent and caused Isa to misread her lamp signals, things could become irreversibly bad.

Having been drenched by her best friend's enormous milk spray without time to dodge, Isa spent a good while coming back to herself, then another good while reaching the climax from self-pleasure she couldn't stop herself from seeking.

“Is this direction right? It's not… so do I need to turn left? Mmm — is this much to the left, exactly right? It's not… then do I need to turn a little more left?”

Through a lengthy series of binary questions, Isa then understood that Alice needed her to carry her to a location, and what direction that was.

Further questioning was necessary, but her head had already started feeling a bit strange, and the more pressing matter was to search her heart: whether to make that decision.

Isa quietly put her best friend's four not-very-heavy prosthetics and four unexpectedly heavy fake cocks into the herb basket, then took off her own milk-soaked shoes and socks and discarded them nearby, leaving herself truly naked from head to toe.

But even bearing the risk of cutting and piercing her bare feet, the sense of openness this bought her couldn't give Isa enough relief. The skin that had been drenched in her best friend's milk flushed hot again and again, and her pussy — though she'd already climaxed two or three times — felt unsatisfied.

The huge volume of arousal fluid that had poured out when the fake cock was pulled from her best friend's pussy was vivid in her memory, the scent of it less thick than the milk-scent but carrying a more intense note of desire.

And that enormous thing pulled from her rear — which must have weighed at least ten kilograms — sent her imagination spiralling. That thing was twenty centimetres in diameter! The grey base pressed against that impossibly depraved body hadn't looked so striking, but when the deep-red column appeared coated in the sticky intestinal fluid, it almost made Isa lose control of her bladder on the spot.

She had accidentally caught a glimpse of her ne'er-do-well uncle's equipment, and by his own drunken boasting his was quite large — yet the length of his was no match for the girth of what had been inside Alice's rear.

That thing… could actually be inserted into a person's stomach.

Isa had the vague feeling that the perfectly-sized device that had been living in her own pussy for these past few days was now too small.

“Sss…”

The best friend cradled awkwardly against her chest let out a questioning breath. Not knowing whether Alice could see her own flushed and scorching face, Isa shook her head, held her best friend front-and-back against her body, and set off in the direction Alice indicated, carrying the herb basket as well.

Forest wind moved the leaves, performing a natural composition.

Bare feet in the soil turned muddy by the milk, a prickling itch with each step that didn't fade even after leaving the range of the soaked ground.

If her own feet were wrapped in smooth latex, how different would the sensation be? If she had no feet, squirming along the ground on her bottom — what would that be like?

The best friend in her arms started wriggling, the back of her head repeatedly bumping against Isa's upper chest. Isa quickly ended the fantasy, seeing the red light flickering on Alice's forehead.

“We've gone too far?”

Green light.

“Sorry… my mind wandered a little, please forgive me ♡”

Isa bent and kissed her speechless best friend, then focused on communicating with her, eventually arriving at the base of the tree she had directed them toward.

“Is this the place?”

The green light lit.

“Should I just put you down here? No… hmm, so we wait here together? Mmm… we need to climb the tree? Also, no… under the tree roots?”

Alice was set aside, resting against the large herb basket Isa had been carrying, her mind full of unsatisfied arousal, the long self-conditioning having made the emptiness of having nothing inside her onaholes an actual form of torment. Alice could only maintain her reason by sheer willpower right now.

“There's a combination lock here — just like the one on the back of the donation box that Reverend Swanson brought back from the city… it's pressing specific numbers in order, right?”

Her field of view was growing dimmer, and the projected language in her mind was carrying slight static. Alice suddenly realized: this helmet of hers also required what was called power to operate.

Running out of time! Alice quickly lit her forehead green.

“Then is the first number 1?”

Red.

“Is it 2?”

The code was a seven-digit hexadecimal number. After 1-9 came A-B-C-D-E-F, and as bad luck would have it, the warehouse's code was EF9C83E.

Alice had no idea how much longer her helmet could hold. She hadn't even known until just recently that this thing could run out of power.

Or perhaps it wasn't power — perhaps it was breaking down.

“Not 9 either… there are some letters after the numbers too — those can also be one digit of the code?”

Alice lit green. The closer to success, the more anxious she felt — but as a doll without limbs and without the ability to speak, no amount of anxiety was useful.

“So the first digit is A? It's not…”

Opening this combination lock cost the two of them over ten minutes. If Alice still had the ability to roll her eyes, she would have delivered a spectacular one to whoever among the ancients had set this lock. But she couldn't roll her eyes, and the visual from her helmet had already gone completely dark, Isa's voice and the forest's ambient sounds vanishing along with her hearing, leaving only speech converted to dry text projected directly into her mind.

〖 F I N A L L Y O P E N E D 〗

〖 W H Y D I D Y O U S W I T C H F R O M U S I N G T H E H E A D L I G H T T O N O D D I N G P A R T W A Y T H R O U G H 〗

〖 O H W O W 〗

〖 L O O K A T T H I S 〗

The muddy earth ahead trembled; an invisible force swept the mud and weeds aside, revealing a metal door lying flat in the ground. The door opened, presenting its lost secrets to Isa.

Without vision, Alice already knew what would happen next — but everything she was capable of doing had essentially been accomplished. She knew this warehouse's location and unlocking code, but had no idea whatsoever about the internal layout or the positions of the various facilities.

She couldn't see where the charging station was. She couldn't explain to Isa which device was the charging station. So how was she supposed to save herself?

Well. Alice — who had always preferred never to depend on others — had no choice in this moment but to rely on Isa's courage and intelligence.

V. Casting Doubt Aside

Perhaps this — right now — was the most helpless situation a person could reach. Alice settled into her best friend's warm embrace and thought this.

Thinking was one of the few things Alice could still do. Her limbs had all been severed from the root, leaving only her spine and shoulder blades still capable of movement. Her eyes were permanently sealed under impenetrable black latex that couldn't be removed. Her ears were filled with sound-dampening material and wrapped beneath latex. Her nostrils were completely blocked. Her tongue was pressed flat against her lower jaw by the crimson latex that also cut off her sense of taste — not a single hair-width of space remaining. Even most of her jawbone had been removed, the remaining portion retained only to maintain the outline of her face, with the permanently-fixed opening device holding her mouth in its round, gaping position.

She had been able to perceive her surroundings through the equipment she wore on her head, but with those devices now powerless, she could only use the collar's adapter to convert spoken language into text and project it into her mind. Aside from the collar providing her with a not-very-sensitive sense of smell, the only remaining means by which Alice could communicate with the world was the latex skin of this torso body.

But this wasn't the main reason Alice felt so wretched. Many people knew that when a person loses sight, the other senses or instincts — whether to compensate for the absence or simply because they now have the contrast of completely vacant vision to compare against — grow more acute.

And Alice's sight and hearing were both completely lost — but more unfortunately, the latex covering her body's surface, having replaced her original skin, had tactile sensitivity far exceeding that of normal human skin. This meant that as her best friend Isa moved while carrying her, she clearly felt the slight friction of the crook of an arm in motion; her permanently-open lower passages and pair of breast-onaholes could distinctly feel the breeze that gusted with each step; the pressure of her best friend's two breast-spheres against her back was as clear as if it were carved into Alice's mind.

All of this, for a degenerate woman who had modified herself into her current form because of lust, was simply too provocative.

Alice wearily twisted her waist. After the helmet providing her sight and hearing lost power, the hunger and weakness that the electricity within the latex exterior had been suppressing surged up. Yet even with hunger and fatigue nearly killing her, the emptiness of her five flesh passages made it impossible for her to stop the erotic thoughts in her mind.

Want to be fucked… want to be fucked… I WANT. TO BE. FUCKED.

The permanently tube-shaped oral cavity and the larynx with its removed vocal cords couldn't let Alice speak proactively. And since being carried by her best friend into this ancient facility, the collar's speech-to-text function had relayed only things like 〖 W O W 〗 and 〖 O H M Y 〗 — her best friend Isa seemed to have no intention whatsoever of starting to communicate with her.

If Alice had still been capable of deep thinking, she would probably have concluded: Worthy of being my best friend — remarkable perception and comprehension. But at this moment, a brain barely capable of full operation from hunger and fatigue, combined with a body aroused to its absolute limit from long self-conditioning and the emptiness inside, left Alice capable of nothing but being a blindly sex-seeking slave.

And in truth, with this body, Alice couldn't even do explicit sex-seeking — only the ceaseless gentle swaying of her flesh-rear and the flowing of her arousal fluid could attest to her state of mind.

Anyone at all! Please come violate and humiliate me! Use the filthiest, most depraved means to play this lewd onahole to pieces! Use me until I die!

Alice's voiceless throat expelled rapid, hot air. Even after approximately a week of fasting had left the energy remaining in this body insufficient for adequate breathing, she was still unable to stop herself from arousal, secreting arousal fluid and milk.

In her mind barely capable of thought from lack of nutrition and oxygen, there was not the slightest dissatisfaction or regret — only desire. Pure desire, filling the boundary between sleep and waking, life and death.

Alice floated in the blackness and void at the edge of death, losing all perception of everything.

But from some moment — in just an instant — this sea of void was filled with lightning bolts of ecstasy!

The girl was shocked awake by electricity flooding into her mind, the small torso-body instantly pierced through by pervasive pleasure!

Her body instinctively tried to arch backward, but felt the fixation at all four limb stumps. The attempt to sway her head side to side was also denied by something deeply embedded in her mouth-onahole.

Completely. Utterly. Unable to move at all. But this no longer mattered — because Alice's starving five flesh passages were, at this moment, packed absolutely full.

“…!”

With her mouth-onahole completely plugged, Alice couldn't even produce a breathing sound — the path of air through her mouth was entirely blocked, and she could only rely on her modified body's breathable latex skin to maintain a bare minimum of respiration.

Her sight and hearing were still, through her own doing, out of commission. The completely immovable body drove her instincts to search for ways out, which in turn made her tactile sense still more sensitive.

Therefore, the electric currents leaping with the violent vibrations throughout her various passages were even more stimulating than ever. Wave-like pleasure kept driving Alice to peak, each climax with the previous not yet faded when the next surged up, pushing her to higher and higher summits.

Tears of mixed ecstasy and torment flowed from beneath the latex covering Alice's eyes. The pair of supported enormous breasts, rather than swelling with blocked milk, felt the opposite — the phalluses deeply inserted in the breast-onaholes, beyond their vibration and electric current, were also generating intense negative pressure suction. The sensitive mammary glands, squeezed behind the latex inner walls of the passages, pressed the breast milk ceaselessly through the latex into the phalluses inside the breast-onaholes.

And where that milk went was communicated to Alice by a strange feeling in her rear passage. Normal intestinal walls could sense heat, but Alice's shortened, straightened, latex-coated intestines should have been unable to feel any flavour at all — yet the intermittent electrical shocks in the rear passage twisted her nerves, creating a sensation that shouldn't belong to a flesh passage: taste. She could sense that her own breast milk was being continuously channelled into the enormous phallus in her rear passage, squeezed outward under internal pressure to become the medium conducting electricity — letting the current flow back with the milk gradually filling the intestines, backwashing up into her oral cavity, and through the tasteless mouth flowing into the phallus plugging it, flowing back out again!

The fake cocks in her passage walls thrust in forceful strokes accompanying the vibration and shocks, the sensitive latex walls transmitting ache upon ache of being ground by protrusions. These constantly twisting and deforming hard protrusions reminded Alice that what was rampaging inside her right now was not her familiar old companions. But what did it matter whether they were or not — Alice at this moment couldn't move a single thing, couldn't even make a sound, and could only experience this rough violation and electrical play in darkness and silence.

She had no eyes to look at a clock, no ears to hear her own heartbeat. Time had ceased to have meaning for Alice. She had absolutely no idea how long she had been played with and violated like this. It might have been only five minutes, it might have been two or three days, it might even have been a year.

Alice didn't know how long her mind could maintain itself under this continuous stimulation, but her world finally brightened with light—

She was looking down from a height into a spacious room containing only a single black display cabinet with a transparent glass door. Inside the glass hung a bright overhead light, illuminating a faintly trembling human-torso girl — her entire body including her facial features sealed under black latex, the outline of her face covered by a smooth oval hard helmet. Her forehead bore not a headlamp, but a raised black-latex hemisphere. Only her round mouth was exposed.

A thick tube was inserted in her mouth, bending from the side of her head to connect to a buzzing mechanical device externally mounted on top of the cabinet. From this device extended two even thicker tubes, each inserted into the latex doll's breast-onaholes on either side. Her pussy and rear passage were connected to the cabinet floor via two terrifying columns, with a pipeline connecting the floor to the device at the cabinet's top. The two things inserted in her lower body were studded with rings of hard protrusions along their columns, and as they thrust they also rotated continuously in the opposite direction. Blue electric current ran ceaselessly across the tips of these protrusions.

Red grips were fixed to all four limb stumps and the top of the doll's head, and the grips were firmly attached to the glass sides of the cabinet — leaving the latex doll completely unable to move, only able to receive the mechanical violation. The edges of each of her flesh passages were ringed in vivid red, as if deliberately drawing the observer's eye.

Did she enjoy all of this, or was she in enough pain to want to die? It didn't matter — she had absolutely no way to move her body or make any sound. Under the violent movement of the mechanical devices, she trembled without cease, unable even to manage a slight twist to prove she was still alive.

This kind of violation and play dominated the latex doll's senses, and it took her a long time to see the full scene within the cabinet, and another long time to realize she was not hanging at a height — the truth was that her vision was connected to an indoor security camera. And this latex doll being tortured inside the display cabinet was Alice herself.

So it could be done this way. Since the nutrition she absorbed could be converted into electrical power for the devices throughout her body, electrical power could naturally also be converted back into the nutrition maintaining this body's survival — and in that case, there was no need to take in external nutrition at all.

“Oh, you're awake?”

Isa's voice, transmitted through a sound pickup somewhere in the room, entered Alice's mind. Then something clicked, and all the mechanical devices buzzing inside her stopped together.

Falling from the boundless heights of climax, though there was a brief sense of vertigo, the lingering warmth of sustained peak pleasure wrapped Alice's damaged body like warm cloud light. She relaxed the body that wouldn't fall over, letting her various passages squeeze tight around the toys within.

With the body no longer continuously at peak pleasure, normal thinking returned to Alice's mind. Given the current situation, this meant Isa had, like Alice, already grasped the operation of these ancient facilities.

“At first I just wanted to give the unconscious Alice some nutrition, but there's none of the nutritional fluid you gave me before here… so I explored what was available in this building and, referencing Uncle's machine at the farm, made a device to replenish energy… looks like it worked out pretty well?”

“Anyway, I'm coming in. Forewarning — I got knocked around a bit while figuring out how everything worked, so don't be startled~”

Alice nodded, training the camera's focus on the room's single doorway.

The door slid downward and opened, and Alice first saw a skull wrapped in black latex. Her best friend Isa's thick hair had been gathered into an extremely fine strand and fed out through a small hole at the back of her head.

Her face was completely wrapped in black latex — eyes and ears sealed. The nostrils, coated inside and out with latex, expelled pale-white hot air. From each side of her cheeks extended a red grip, convenient for men to seize during violation of the mouth-onahole. Her mouth, while still in a human shape, had a circular mouth-gag clamped between the lips, the inside of the unclosable mouth covered in vivid latex red — how far inward this extended was unclear.

The door slid further down, revealing her torso, also wrapped in black latex. Isa held her head high and angled her body backward, so the mechanical pendant centred on her collar wasn't blocked by her chin, facing the wall-mounted camera directly. That pendant was presumably now her eyes, ears, and voice.

She extended her fingers, completely wrapped in latex, and displayed her impressive pair of breasts in a showing-off gesture. Post-latex shaping they had become even more upright and rounded in form, and in place of nipples — now covered in vivid red latex — were two fake cocks very visibly inserted. Bright circular rings pierced through the breast-onahole walls, and from each ring hung a pendant, swaying left and right — the shapes unmistakably spelling out her given name, Isa, and her family name, Lemina.

Alice suppressed the urge to exclaim and kept observing. Her best friend's waist was cinched tightly by a deep-red latex corset, so unnaturally narrowed it looked as if several ribs had been removed and some internal organs relocated. Her glossy black lower abdomen bore a glowing light-trace in a shape combining a uterus and a heart, pink in colour, extending downward to her pubic area. A cable extended from the heart-shaped light-trace at the pubic area, stretching along the right thigh, connecting to something fixed to the outer thigh by a strap.

That something was entirely black, and was unambiguously an enormous cock. A pair of testicles swayed with each step Isa took into the room, and the rounded, sizeable glans was coloured vivid red. Clear fluid constantly flowed from this artificial cock attached to the body, running down the outside of the over-knee long boots and dripping from the six-centimetre heels to the floor.

Good heavens. When Alice had first discovered these ancient facilities, she'd started with simple things like pre-formed latex garments and similar toys…

Look at what Isa was wearing. Spray-applied latex coating covering even facial features and internal passage walls. A collar with neural connections to substitute for the senses. Body-sculpting surgery. An artificial cock connected through an incision and cables. And those breast-ring pendants bearing her own name!

Alice moved the camera focus to her own breast-onaholes — empty, containing only the passages themselves. She'd had her limbs cut off and been played with like this, yet she'd lost in this particular department.

After making eye contact with Alice — head raised, body angled back — for a moment, Isa stepped her latex-over-knee-heeled legs forward and walked toward the glass cabinet containing Alice's body.

“Well? Do I look good in this? Though some parts came from not understanding and operating things wrong… like, for this corset, an automatic machine removed three pairs of my ribs — but overall, I'm very satisfied ♡”

Isa struck a proud pose with both hands on her corset, thrusting out the even more conspicuous enormous breasts, the breast-ring pendants and the name-engraved ornaments below swaying together.

“These decorations on me were all designed based on a book I found in this iron temple. So the ancient people who built this temple liked to play at this scale~ Look — the straight grips on my face are convenient for others to use my mouth, and while the glowing patterns on my stomach don't do anything functional, they make the pussy look more prominent. Seeing the whole effect, even a girl would get excited~”

“As for what's attached to my leg — Alice will know what it's for very soon ♡ Mm-hm-hm~ ♡”

Isa pressed a finger to her latex-sealed lips around the circular mouth-gag and patted the cock bound to her leg with the other hand, making a small hip-dip motion.

“Though, to be fair, what I did to myself hasn't reached Alice's level at all~”

“So I thought — at least in some other dimension, I'd try something more transcendent than Alice~ For instance: why does Alice need to hide her real identity? Wearing your name on your body like this, thinking about being seen by someone who knows you, you'd be able to climax without even touching yourself~”

“Hmm… Alice?”

“Ah right, I forgot to mention — I've already connected your brainwaves to the broadcast speaker. You could have been speaking this whole time.”

Alice came back from shock and blankness.

“Ah — what? Oh…”

But the voice entering her mind through the “ears” was an unfamiliar, stiff female voice. Though given this facility had no voice data for her, that wasn't surprising.

“So — what does Miss Alice want to say? I'm quite curious~”

Alice also wanted to know what she would say first if she could still speak. Marvel at her best friend's boldness and cleverness in working out the facility's operation alone? Praise her wonderfully modified figure? Comment on how reckless she was to dive in so deep right from the start?

She hesitated. More than ten days later, facing her best friend who knew her secret and had herself thrown into the same world of depraved desire, what should her first words be?

But the instinct of the latex-onahole human-torso spoke before any of this thinking could:

“That electrical play just now — can we do it again?”

“Oh my~ ♡”

VI. The Road Ahead

“Does Miss Alice like the machine I designed that much — liking it enough that the first words after regaining consciousness are a request to use it again~ Hoo hoo hoo~ ♡”

Hearing Isa's teasing, Alice suddenly realized: after this depraved reunion with her best friend Isa, the first words she had spoken to her were a proposition.

Her first reaction was naturally shame, making her instinctively turn her head — but the tubing embedded deep in her throat from the mouth-onahole had her head firmly fixed and unturnable. The four completely severed limb stumps were also attached to the cabinet's inner walls, leaving her completely immobile.

But — when Alice, through the facility's security equipment, saw the black-latex-wrapped Isa approach with a cat-like gait, the pendants engraved with her family name and given name swaying below her breast rings, heard the electronic-voiced alluring laugh from the pendant on her collar — Alice suddenly felt this kind of shame was entirely unnecessary.

When it came down to it, Alice and Isa were both depraved bad girls.

Alice felt her shame fade, but the heat on her cheeks spread all the way to her ears.

“That… um…”

The default voice this facility projected for her sounded like an unfamiliar woman, yet it accurately conveyed the shift in her emotion — a voice completely different from her own, trembling with just the right amount, conveying intense feeling to Isa.

“Please… be a little rough… ♡”

“Hoo hoo hoo~ ♡ You're not hiding it at all now that I've found out you're a lustful creature? So adorable~ ♡”

In her third-person field of view, the black and vivid-red latex doll opened the glass cabinet door. Her glossy black latex fingers reached toward the mouth of the doll inside, gave a light press at the base of the firmly fixed tubing — and in Alice's vision the edge of the mouth-onahole sprayed a hissing stream of white gas.

Alice felt the enormous thing in her mouth-onahole constrict considerably, and the surfaces of the tender onahole flesh and fake phallus, slightly fused together from contact, rapidly separated. After a mild tearing sensation, milk at high internal pressure from the breast-onahole gushed out around the edges.

The sensitive onahole was already climaxing simply from these unavoidable stimuli, but for Alice, this level of thing was nothing much.

Besides, being completely unable to move was still somewhat arduous. Alice had already learned silence, so she simply waited for Isa's next actions.

The tubes at her breasts were also deflated, and the pair of connectors — surface-distributed with negative-pressure holes, a full ten centimetres in diameter and thirty centimetres long — were released. Isa mischievously inserted both hands directly into the opened vivid-red breast-onaholes, stimulating the latex soft flesh inside, sending milk gushing out once more.

“Sss huu… ♡”

Seemingly noticing the exhalation from the freed mouth-onahole, Isa raised her head and pressed the mouth held around its gag against her best friend's mouth-onahole in a kiss. Both their tongues were sealed flat against their lower jaws by latex, so tongue kissing was impossible — only this friction could serve as comfort.

Then came the deflation of the inflatable electric-shock phalluses in both lower passages. Since Alice's pussy and rear had already been expanded to their absolute limit, what came out was only their normal shape.

“Normal” naturally being Alice's definition of normal — in actual terms, front and rear were eighteen and twenty-two centimetres respectively. Being extracted amid intense friction made Alice orgasm in continuous trembling. These flesh passages had been thoroughly ruined from the very beginning — they could only contract down to a centimetre-plus diameter at minimum, never fully closing again. If someone with a particularly small equipment wanted to play with Alice, unfortunately, they'd have to use a masturbation sleeve fixed inside the passage as a substitute.

“Does Alice want more electrical play?”

After gathering up the small, body with its somewhat heavy enormous breasts and buttocks, Isa turned and looked up, using the camera of her collar pendant to see the room's security device. For Alice, seeing her own body being handled from this perspective had a certain unique flavour — being able to see the full image of her depraved body at every moment was itself a thing that kept her body continuously aroused.

“I want… ♡”

The unfamiliar female voice conveyed familiar feelings, and the four-limbed doll in her arms slowly twisted, milk continuously welling from the unclosable breast-onaholes.

Though she very much wanted to use this body to spend a moment of intimate pleasure with her best friend she hadn't seen in so long—

“But, Miss Alice — you hid something this fun from your best friend, and I need to properly punish you for that ♡”

Isa laughed inwardly. As for the face that could make no expressions around the circular mouth-gag — never mind that. She circled one arm around her best friend's slender waist, while the other began playing with the latex-wrapped pussy of the torso-girl best friend.

“Come on — Alice needs to tell me everything about this facility, every bit of it, and then I'll do something nice for you ♡”

It turned out that Alice, when being played with, either had to stay completely silent or speak while mixing in waves of alluring moans.

Under Isa's caressing provocation, Alice started from the beginning — how she'd found the facility entrance in the wilderness, how she'd cracked the ancient's riddles to obtain the code, how she'd felt her way through the facility heart-in-mouth: “At the time, haah~… I had no best friend staking her body to guarantee the facility was safe to explore freely… so don't be too pleased with yourself — haah, mmh ♡ don't rub that place ♡!”

And naturally the most crucial part — the two great adventures that had modified her into her current form. The first had given her Snowball, half pet half companion. The second had landed her in her present situation.

“So, as long as the energy cores are brought back, Alice can return to normal?”

“Yes, they can… it's all said, now make me climax… hurry… ♡ please…”

Throughout the interrogation, Isa kept teasing her torso-girl best friend — with no limbs, Alice had no choice but to comply, and a well-timed pause could keep her friend in perpetual edging. The feeling of the soft, warm latex doll squirming and pleading in her arms was something Isa was nearly becoming addicted to.

“Well — since Alice says so—”

The doll in her arms squirmed with excitement, doing her best to tilt her rear and meet the teasing fingers.

“Then just lie here and wait a bit more ♡”

Isa smiled wickedly in her heart. The expression on the face biting the circular mouth-gag — well, never mind that. She laid Alice on her back on the cold floor.

Ignoring Alice writhing on the floor and calling through the speaker, “Come back! If I don't get to climax soon, I'm going to go insane!” Isa closed the room door. Walking into the corridor, she connected her vision and hearing to the security system in Alice's room, enjoying the sight of the four-limbed latex doll struggling energetically on the ground.

Having her various flesh passages freed, Alice had regained the mobility called “squirming” and could move her chest somewhat autonomously — but with all limbs severed from the root, bearing the weight of the enormous breasts, she couldn't even turn over. Alice had said these breasts could squirm a little on their own initiative, so the prone position was manageable, using them for locomotion — but in her current supine position they would only be a hindrance.

Not knowing Isa was monitoring her, Alice chose silence. Her expression was sealed by black latex, but the constantly flowing milk and arousal fluid testified to her excitement.

Alice was squirming hard on the ground, her enormous rear propped up, head waving like a caterpillar, pressing her rear's considerable elasticity toward the camera. Once contact was made with the ground she shifted her weight onto it, trying to lift her back. Inch by inch, moving like a worm, she finally oriented her lower body toward the camera.

Isa had at first thought she knew she was being monitored and was trying to seduce, but then heard Alice's voice from the security system:

“Oh my~ whose latex doll is this~ so wet down here— ♡”

Alice appeared to be using this voice's unfamiliarity to place herself in a hypothetical scenario, combined with the voyeuristic third-person view — in which case climax without tactile stimulation should be achievable.

“Look at this latex-covered pussy, dripping away~ ♡ Anyone at all could easily violate this doll~ ♡ Completely — haah… ♡ without human rights, a slave~ no, not even a slave, purely a toy~ so absolutely depraved ♡”

She didn't need her own breath to project the words, and even as her chest heaved more and more intensely and her waist twisted with obscene abandon, she still worked to keep her voice sounding effortlessly composed.

“Just like this, take her, haah~… home~ ♡ and then… destroy her original body… haah, if you do that— ♡ haah, mmh ahhhhhhhhh~ ♡!”

Alice's small body convulsed, milk and arousal fluid spraying like a water gun, spattering the nearby floor. Every tender passage contracted faintly with each breath, the scorching white vapour from within the onaholes clearly visible in the cool room.

“Haah… like this, forever as… a doll… ♡ tossed around and trained by anyone… ♡ heh heh…”

So that was what Alice was thinking.

Isa transferred her vision and hearing back to her collar's own device, slowly withdrew the fingers that had been touching herself, from her own pussy and breast-onahole. As fragrant as her best friend was, business still had to come first.

Excluding the one already running in the energy chamber, there were three more energy cores in the storage room. With some adjustment of the clothing and prosthetics in the herb basket, everything would just barely fit, and her own clothes could serve as padding to absorb shock.

Since her assistance wouldn't be needed on the return journey, there was no need to waste the charge freshly put into the prosthetics. Moreover, Alice's utterly defenseless state was too adorable — she had become a little reluctant to give the prosthetics back.

What if she just… never gave them back?

Isa came back to Alice's room carrying the full herb basket, one arm cradling the five large toys that had previously been inside Alice's body, one hand holding a newly fabricated device.

“Isa! You're being a bully!”

The torso-girl on the floor writhed, broadcasting her complaint. Having heard it enough times, Isa found she'd actually grown somewhat accustomed to this anonymous female voice from the speaker.

“Alice made herself into this state because she was expecting to be bullied, wasn't she? Unless — rather than your dear best friend, you'd prefer to be bullied by some strange stinky man?”

Alice went quiet, only swaying her wet lower body as if in invitation.

“We're going to take the energy cores and go now. Incidentally, all the devices on you are fully charged~”

Isa twisted open the small tube at the very top of the herb basket and spread the liquid onto Alice's forehead. A layer of carbon-black immediately liquefied and flowed down, and the slightly raised camera-lamp at the forehead restored its aperture, allowing Alice to once again see and hear through the helmet encasing her head like a black egg.

The lamp on the helmet was flickering yellow, suggesting Alice had more to say, but when touching the surface cover of the helmet's equipment, Isa had already revoked her connection to the room's security system, and Alice's best friend now had to be silent again.

Next, the fake phalluses — ordinary healthy-cock-sized for the mouth, ten centimetres in diameter for the breast-onaholes, and twenty centimetres for the rear. Alice trembled violently throughout the insertion process, but Isa ignored the flashing headlamp and pushed all the non-detachable devices to their deepest positions, the dark grey bases even slightly sunken into the passage flesh, the bright red grips no longer visible from the side.

“Alice looks like she feels so good~ or is it not good? Either way, you don't have the right to refuse ♡”

The best friend's unconstrained passage sprayed arousal fluid — this passage needed something else to fill it. Isa undid the straps on her leg, and lightly pressed the switch hidden in the patterns on her lower abdomen. The cables at the incision point below rapidly contracted, and the dangling black latex cock attached itself to Isa's pubic area.

“Hoo hoo — Alice remembers this, right? It's going to enter Alice's body next~ We're going to be connected for the trip back ♡ Mm-hm-hm~ ♡”

The nano-devices at the cock's base integrated tightly with Isa's latex exterior — impossible to pull off, even with force. This mechanical cock's tactile and pleasure sensations transmitted clearly into her spinal cord through the cable implanted in Isa's body, and just lightly stroking the vivid red glans would cause the stored pseudo-semen — converted from her own milk inside the balls — to spray out, a burst of intense pleasure that made Isa unable to imagine how desperate she'd be without it.

This wonderful thing was naturally to be shared with her dear Alice — though this meant the fifteen-centimetre phallus previously in Alice's pussy would have nowhere to go. Isa had been aware of this problem. Fortunately, she had also modified her own resilience with injected nano-machines, and while her own pussy had never accepted such expansion before…

It would definitely be fine. Ignoring Alice on the ground squirming and flashing green-yellow light at her enormous cock, Isa picked up the terrifying, enormous object — the kind that could ruin an ordinary girl — and tried aiming it at her own pussy.

“Huu… huu, nnnn nnn nnn~ ♡!”

She used her fingers to peel open the black latex petals, revealing the vivid red latex passage flesh within. Isa, in her high-heeled boots, aimed at the object standing upright on the floor and slowly squatted down. The latex exterior wouldn't heighten her sensitivity — but the pleasure of being expanded for the first time in this way still had her drenched in sweet sweat and sinking to the floor quickly.

“Haah~… Alice is so depraved… swallowing something this enormous in your body all this time… ♡”

Isa looked at the enormous object, only halfway inside, worked hard to curl her body, hooked the base with her fingertips, and squeezed inward with force, feeling the intense pleasure of passage expanding and internal organs shifting. The climaxing passage's secretions were absorbed by the plug and conducted through nano-tubes in the exterior to the balls; the cock shook violently, pseudo-semen converted and stored there spraying high, the viscous fishy liquid pouring lavishly over Alice's body.

“Haah~… aah… ♡ Depraved Alice~ ♡ covered all over in semen… heh heh~ ♡”

Isa hooked a short chain to the back of Alice's collar, then lifted her best friend's small body and pressed her enormous cock without ceremony into Alice's pussy. Even without lubrication, this passage expanded too far to ever close wouldn't resist — and Alice was already aroused to her absolute limit, the passage walls not just wet but biting down hard on Isa's cock.

“Haah~ ♡ Alice, you're so depraved! Squeezing like this… I'm going to, huu~ cum again ♡!”

After sitting on the floor being wrung out two or three times, Isa finally adapted to Alice's tightness. She connected the short chain at Alice's nape to her own collar, ensuring Alice wouldn't fall off the cock without needing to be held — after which she just needed to put on the herb basket to be ready to depart.

But Isa had another idea. She picked up the recently fabricated small toy — a set of black shackles, several horizontal steel bars and three half-circles, which once locked would fix her neck and both wrists at the same level. Carrying Alice with this on — if they encountered wild animals, the sound and light device on the collar could frighten them away; but if they encountered other people, she and her best friend could very easily be captured as sex slaves. After all, carrying all these heavy things, and with these high-heeled long boots, she couldn't run fast.

“Ah right — on the way I'll put on the shackles and lock my hands, and they'll only release automatically when we get near the facility Alice mentioned. So if we're caught by strange men on the way, not only will Alice be a sex-slave doll for life, I'll also have to live on wearing these shackles that no one in the current era can remove ♡. But Alice definitely doesn't mind, right?”

Isa smiled lightly. The short chain connecting her and Alice blocked most of the field of view provided by the collar pendant — but with the boots' balance mechanism she wouldn't fall, so feeling her way forward while wearing the shackles wouldn't result in being unable to stand after a fall.

Alice squirmed repeatedly in her arms, the oversized head inside the oval helmet swaying left and right, as if wanting to say something. But Isa paid absolutely no attention and walked to the full-length mirror in the room.

“Even if Alice minds, so what? Never mind using limbs to stop me — Alice right now can't even make suggestions or opinions ♡ Hoo hoo — Alice's body becoming like this was Alice expecting this kind of thing to happen, wasn't it?”

In the mirror were two depraved women, their bodies wrapped in glossy black latex, the tight latex perfectly tracing the shapes and details of their private areas, appearing more erotic than total nudity. The one with intact limbs had her left hand firmly fixed by metal shackles to the left side of her skull, right hand temporarily free though the right shackle ring waited in readiness, and rigid high-heeled boots limiting movement while inviting violation. The one plugged onto the cock had her limbs entirely removed, her head-concealing helmet flickering red light, shaking her head and body repeatedly, a pair of enormous breasts swaying faintly with the motion. The connection point between them continuously overflowed thick fluid, running past the enormous latex testicles dripping to the floor, making the scene even more erotic.

Rather looking forward to her being unwillingly captured together with me ♡

Isa smiled inwardly.

The latex doll moved her still-functional right hand to the latex doll's navel and lightly turned the dial, setting the fake phalluses inside her to start violently vibrating at random intervals. Electrical shocks — she'd hold off on those. If current passed through Alice's body into the cock, her legs might be too limp from the discharge for the next shock, and in the continuous climax she'd never find the opportunity to stand again. That could put them both in serious danger.

Before the mirror, Isa inserted her right hand into the shackle ring, right there in front of Alice, and the shackle locked tight upon detecting her wrist.

“Then — we're setting off ♡”

Alice dropped her head as if surrendering to fate and began slowly working her waist to service the cock inside her. Isa nodded with satisfaction, flexed her waist so Alice and her own enormous breasts swayed together, and walked toward the facility's exit.

VII. What Cannot Be Undone

They had finally retrieved the energy core and left the warehouse — what had seemed like something quickly resolved had taken an unexpectedly large amount of time. Alice and Isa had recognized each other in the afternoon; now it was already morning.

Another question: when she'd been on the verge of giving up hope in the wilderness, Alice had mentally prepared herself to be picked up by someone and played with for the rest of her life. But what had Isa been thinking? She could only hope her best friend had left herself a safety net — or that if they were captured, at least the two of them wouldn't be separated. With her current body, Alice had no choices to make, but if possible, being conditioned and played with together with the adorable Isa would still be preferable.

However, contrary to Alice's worries, the journey was unexpectedly calm and safe — though far from boring.

Half of Alice's weight hung from her own neck, the other half supported by the cock in her pussy. Her entire body swayed like a precariously tilting breastplate hung on Isa's cock. The intense pressure had already kept Alice at the edge of climax, not to mention that with each step Isa took, the cock thrust and rubbed inside the passage walls with her stride. The semen Isa had shot was filling her pussy and womb, overflowing from the connection point, mixing with her own arousal fluid to lubricate this hive of pleasure.

Most importantly — her mouth-onahole, breast-onaholes, and rear passage all started vibrating violently at random intervals. Each time this happened, the surging pleasure made her arch her back and twist hard, the passage walls contracting involuntarily, drawing Isa into continuous orgasms as well.

In the haze of climax, Alice also noticed: each time the vibration activated and both of them came together, the rate at which the scenery receded in her field of view also slowed.

But even with occasional slowdowns, Isa's stride moved at normal speed when the vibration wasn't active. Compared to Alice's own prosthetics that moved at less than one-tenth of normal human speed, even counting the frequent pauses, three or four hours was enough for Isa to walk to the original facility while carrying her.

Perhaps this was also why Isa hadn't pulled out the breast-onahole vibrators to let the continuously swelling enormous breasts lighten somewhat.

“Phuu… the shackles have released — looks like we're here.”

Accompanied by a light tinkling sound, Isa murmured from behind. The hands that had not touched Alice once the entire journey now rested on her shoulders.

Having been played with to the edge of losing consciousness, drifting in a haze because there was nothing else she needed to concern herself with, Alice suddenly jolted alert. Snowball in the base knew the code and could open the door on its own — if it misread her current appearance as Alice being under attack, her best friend would be in danger!

Earlier, in the storage facility, she had only told Isa of Snowball's existence but had forgotten to mention it wasn't locked inside. She had planned to explain properly on the way — but had been so thoroughly enjoying the journey that she'd completely forgotten.

“…! …!!”

Without vocal cords, with her mouth-onahole packed, she couldn't make a sound to warn; nodding and shaking, or the colours of her forehead lamp, couldn't convey “there is danger,” and moreover she was currently facing away from Isa, so the lamp was completely invisible to her. The only thing Alice could do was writhe her limbless body as hard as possible.

Stop, stop! Forgetting something this important is my fault, just stop—

Too late. In the image the helmet fed into her mind, the rock ahead slid aside, and Snowball's shrunken form — white as a Shiba Inu — stepped out of the metal corridor flickering with red emergency lighting. Though the latex on Isa's body was almost certainly the same type as hers — indestructible by anything available in the current era — Snowball could still easily turn her best friend into an intact but very mashed filling inside an impervious skin.

Alice's head drooped in despair.

“Oh, is this Snowball? Unexpectedly pretty — I thought you'd look more ferocious~”

Her best friend, who had been using an artificial cock to plug her just moments ago with no awareness of how dangerous the situation was, strode toward it. Alice's body tilted forward along with the cock beneath her, and then one black-latex-wrapped right hand reached toward Snowball's head—

“…”

Alice wanted to close her eyes, but the image fed into her mind through the camera didn't defer to her will, and her neck, pulled along the whole journey, was already at its limit just to raise — she was completely unable to turn away from whatever happened next.

“…Wuf!”

Snowball wagged its wolf tail — poorly suited to wagging — producing a slightly unusual but fairly crisp bark, and nuzzled the reaching black latex right hand.

“Oh my oh my~ ♡ Good boy, Snowball's so good~”

Isa gave it two more delighted strokes and patted its head as she stepped into the corridor. Alice had no doubt that if not for the burden she was carrying, her best friend would have kept petting it until satisfied.

Snowball turned and followed at the side of the two, raising its head, its eyes fixed on the camera-lamp at Alice's forehead.

Though they spoke no shared language, Alice clearly understood what that look meant: “Is this your mate? I understand.”

“…!”

Alice struggled to twist her body in denial, trying to use this helpless torso form to convey to Snowball that she and Isa were just friends.

“Awooo… awf? Gurawooo—”

Snowball, while having a child's intelligence, had limited comprehension without language. It barked softly, using expression and body language to convey its meaning: “I understand — she's your master. Ah right — I found this earlier—”

Not a master, not even close! Alice's helmet flashed red light, but Snowball had already trotted off into the depths of the facility.

Not a master. Not.

Whether Snowball's momentary misunderstanding mattered or not — she could correct it with words after reclaiming her original body later — but this single sentence she hadn't been able to say out loud kept circling in Alice's mind.

She was contained in this useless current body, her entire self fixed on Isa's cock, unable even to speak. As long as Isa was willing, she could be humiliated however Isa chose — and Alice needed to rely on Isa not just for the satisfaction of sexual desire, but even for the most basic maintenance of life, able to do nothing besides pleasing Isa. Yes, it was very much as if…

“Oh? The vibrators aren't even going, so why is Alice suddenly squeezing so tightly? Do you want to say something?”

Only then did Alice realize she had become aroused from this very thought. And this fact, bringing a wave of shame, made her involuntarily more excited and caused her to squeeze tighter.

To conceal her inner wavering, Alice quickly nodded.

A small click sounded, and the tension from the collar disappeared. Then two slender hands gripped her waist and began lifting upward. The latex pussy that was so tightly sucking on Isa's cock felt the friction and began convulsing in another climax. Alice wearily swayed her head, feeling the surge inside her.

“Huu~ ♡ Huu mmh nnn nnn~ ♡ The glans — the glans is so deformed from being sucked that hard — coming again ahhhhhhhhhh~ ♡!”

Wonderful moans sounded from behind, and another rush of warmth that could melt the residual body poured inward. Alice trembled, slowly twisting in her best friend's hands. As her body rose, the mixture of semen and arousal fluid poured continuously from her flesh passage, the empty vagina contracting again and again, her body shaking even at the mere touch of fresh air.

“…”

Using the headlamp signals to communicate the locations of the energy room and main control room, waiting for Isa to put down the basket on her back, using body language to compliment Snowball on the prey it brought back, watching Isa install the new energy core… after the base lit back up in white light, Alice was still placed against the wall, her full weight on the fake phallus in her rear passage, the navel device again reaching its random activation time. Alice trembled, forced to climax again and again in waves of pleasure, the fluid of semen and arousal liquid from her passages had flowed into a puddle on the floor.

Isa had left her field of view for a good while now. Snowball had finished showing off and dragged the wild boar outside to eat.

It had been quite some time since she had been transformed into this helpless depraved body. The pleasure of violation had not diminished in the slightest — but a desire she was unfamiliar with lingered in Alice's mind.

The desire to be seen. The desire to have her depraved body appraised. The desire to be proactively played with and trained by another.

All the previous occasions had been within a known range of self-inflicted suffering, or tormented by the anxiety of being suspended in uncertainty from irresistible accidents. But only since being recognized by Isa had she truly experienced what she had imagined countless times before — being humiliated, being conditioned.

A feeling that what was done to her was not hers to decide — and yet being at peace knowing she wasn't in danger.

But Isa was her best friend, not her master.

Besides, she was about to return to her original body.

The pleasure vibrating inside her and the arching climax stopped together with the mechanical sound — but Alice didn't feel the “it's finally over” relief she'd felt so many times before.

What on earth… am I thinking?

“I'm done adjusting! Now Alice can see through the cameras and speak through the indoor broadcast system like before.”

Accompanied by the sound of high heels on the floor, Isa walked into Alice's field of view. The latex cock fixed to her lower abdomen had been detached and strapped to her right outer thigh, the cable at its base connecting to the lowest point of the patterns on her lower abdomen.

She crouched down and cradled Alice in her arms. Both pairs of enormous breasts pressed together, warm and soft.

“Thank you, mas— Isa.”

Because sufficient voice data had now been recorded in the facility, the broadcast voice sounded entirely like Alice's true voice, and conveyed the exact degree of her wavering.

Alice twisted her head, savouring the “master” she had almost said out loud, the permanently unclosable pussy dripping its mixture of semen and arousal fluid.

“Don't thank me — and what were you just about to say?”

Isa's voice carried confusion, but transmitted from the pendant on her collar. The face sealed in latex with its circular mouth-gag had not a trace of expression.

“Nothing! Just take me to room B7! We need to print out the key for my helmet before we can put me back in my original body!”

〖 W O W __ H A V E N ' T S E E N A L I C E ' S B O D Y I N A W H I L E __ S U C H A P R O P O R T I O N A T E F I G U R E C O M P A R E D T O M I N E 〗

Isa was naturally referring to the original body floating in the glass pod. The current body was erotic, but absolutely couldn't be called proportionate.

〖 H E Y __ A L I C E __ T H I S M A C H I N E L O O K S V E R Y C O M P L I C A T E D __ I S I T R E A L L Y O K A Y T O L E A V E I T T O M E 〗

With the printed key, Alice had the helmet removed and sat stiffly in the chair, a metal hemisphere placed on her head, probes piercing the latex skin — only pierceable by this facility's equipment. Without the helmet's assistance she lost the sight originating from her own eyes, most surrounding sounds being filtered until only speech was converted to text and projected directly into her mind.

The room's security camera showed the back of the chair she was sunk into. Alice could only see the cables hanging from the mechanical device, not her own body. The visual was technically unnecessary, but the unease after removing the helmet made Alice almost unable to speak, so she had also asked Isa to additionally connect the security camera's vision.

〖 T R A N S F E R R I N G C O N S C I O U S N E S S I S S I M P L E 〗

Alice adjusted her breathing. The navel control had been set to still, all passages emptied. She could focus on her inner mind now.

Her feelings were in disarray. So it was better like this — without being able to hear her own voice's tone, seeing only the text her words converted into. If she could hear the trembling in her own voice, Alice wouldn't have been able to say what she was about to say.

〖 B U T A B S O L U T E L Y D O N O T F I R S T M O V E T H E B L A C K S L I D E R A T T H E V E R Y T O P L E F T O F T H E C O N T R O L P A N E L A L L T H E W A Y L E F T __ T H E N P U L L T H E T H I R D L E V E R F R O M T H E L E F T A L L T H E W A Y D O W N __ A N D F I N A L L Y P R E S S T H E R E D T R I A N G L E B U T T O N T O I T S R I G H T __ I F Y O U D O T H A T M Y O R I G I N A L B O D Y W I L L B E C O M P L E T E L Y D E S T R O Y E D __ T H O U G H A N E W C L O N E C A N B E M A D E __ B U T W I T H M E I N T H I S L I M B L E S S C O N D I T I O N I C A N ' T O P E R A T E T H E C L O N I N G E Q U I P M E N T W I T H O U T Y O U R C O N S E N T __ S O D O N O T D O T H A T 〗

〖 A L S O I F Y O U T R U L Y I N T E N D T O D O T H I S __ A B S O L U T E L Y D O N O T W I T H T H E T O P - L E F T B L A C K S L I D E R C O N F I R M E D A L L T H E W A Y L E F T __ T U R N T H E K N O B O N T H E R I G H T S I D E O F T H E C O N S O L E T O T H E S E T T I N G W I T H A L O C K D R A W N O N I T __ T H E N P R E S S T H E G R E E N B U T T O N T O T H E R I G H T B E L O W T H E K N O B __ I F Y O U D O T H I S __ M Y B O D Y W I L L B E F I X E D I N I T S C U R R E N T S T A T E __ A L L F U T U R E C L O N E B O D I E S F O R C O N S C I O U S N E S S T R A N S F E R W I L L A L S O B E C O M E T H I S K I N D O F L I M B L E S S B I G - C H E S T E D - A N D - B U T T E D B O D Y __ W H I C H M E A N S I W O U L D A L W A Y S B E T H I S K I N D O F U S E L E S S D E B A U C H E D B O D Y __ A B S O L U T E L Y D O N O T D O T H I S 〗

Isa paused for several seconds, then raised her head, letting the camera on her collar pendant face the corner security device. Her face sealed in latex still showed no expression, but one of her hands had already grasped her own breast-ring and was pulling it back and forth.

Alice felt her whole body heating up, but this was absolutely only because the body had been modified to arouse too easily. Absolutely.

〖 F I N A L L Y __ T O T R A N S F E R C O N S C I O U S N E S S __ J U S T P R E S S T H E L A R G E S T B U T T O N I N T H E M I D D L E O F T H E C O N T R O L P A N E L 〗

Alice was grateful she didn't have to face Isa's expression, couldn't hear her own breathing sounds, and couldn't even see past the chair-back to see how aroused her body already was.

The words she'd just said must not have been as calm as they appeared in text form in her mind. But what kind of obscenity would that voice have reached?

Had she understood the hint? And what was she planning to do? Was it right to hand such an important decision to someone else to make?

〖 O K A Y O K A Y M I S S A L I C E __ F I R S T M O V E T H E B L A C K S L I D E R A T T H E V E R Y T O P L E F T O F T H E C O N T R O L P A N E L A L L T H E W A Y L E F T __ T H E N P U L L T H E T H I R D L E V E R F R O M T H E L E F T A L L T H E W A Y D O W N __ A N D F I N A L L Y P R E S S T H E R E D T R I A N G L E T O I T S R I G H T __ R I G H T 〗

The camera in the room couldn't see the angled control surface — only Isa reaching her fingers toward the top-left of the console, sliding something from top to bottom, and then the finger stopping to its right.

The glass pod in the room lit red. The transparent glass went black, and the beautiful young woman floating in the liquid within was gradually obscured by darkness.

Her way back was gone. She could never again see in the mirror that clear-featured, lightly-built golden-haired beauty. Thinking this, Alice felt her heart nearly leaping from her chest. Every passage contracted with each breath, the tingling spreading across her whole body. But she could still clone a new, complete body at any time and transfer into it — so it wasn't the most desperate state possible.

〖 W H A T O N E A R T H A R E Y O U D O I N G __ N O W I N E E D T O M A K E A N E W C L O N E B O D Y __ B U T I C A N ' T D O I T W I T H O U T Y O U R H E L P __ A N D I F Y O U W O N ' T H E L P __ I ' L L H A V E T O M A I N T A I N T H I S D E B A U C H E D L A T E X D O L L B O D Y F O R E V E R __ F I N E __ A T L E A S T __ D O N O T F I X M Y B O D Y I N T H I S S T A T E 〗

Alice saw Isa's expressionless head tilt slightly, one finger touching her own cheek. She was probably smiling — having done something like this to her best friend, how was smiling still possible.

She couldn't distinguish the tone of her own voice right now. Were these words the understandable urgency and anger they appeared to be, or did they carry the kind of aroused undercurrent that would give Isa reason to laugh? That was self-evident, but Alice tried hard to deceive herself.

These words are truly an expression of anger. Absolutely, without question.

A wave of arousal surged from her lower body, and the white vapour she was expelling through her mouth-onahole had already crossed the top of the chair-back and was now visible within the security camera's frame. Isa's latex-sealed face appeared to be smiling.

〖 A F T E R W A R D T U R N T H E K N O B O N T H E R I G H T S I D E O F T H E C O N S O L E T O T H E S E T T I N G W I T H A L O C K D R A W N O N I T __ T H E N P R E S S T H E G R E E N B U T T O N T O T H E R I G H T B E L O W T H E K N O B 〗

Isa moved her other hand toward the console, but let it hover in the air.

〖 O H M Y __ T H E R E A R E T W O L O C K S Y M B O L S N E X T T O T H I S K N O B __ W I T H 1 A N D 2 W R I T T E N N E X T T O T H E M __ W H I C H L O C K S Y M B O L S H O U L D I T U R N I T T O 〗

Catastrophe! Alice had forgotten the panel had a two-level status lock. Level 1 was as she intended — nano-machines locking her genetic blueprint to the current body state.

Level 2 additionally altered the nervous system, modifying brain tissue so it could no longer understand or execute functions that the current body lacked compared to the genetic blueprint.

Even a normal person with only slightly deficient vision who was locked at level 2 would find their vision permanently unable to be restored through glasses or magic thereafter.

Meaning — if she was locked in her current state, from this point on she would be unable to use even prosthetic limbs!

No matter how advanced the prosthetics, she would never again be able to pick anything up or walk! She would truly, permanently, in the full meaning of the word, become a latex doll for anyone to play with as they pleased! Not just appearing to be a toy in terms of looks — without prosthetics available, everything she would do for the rest of her life was nothing but dripping milk while twisting her depraved waist to solicit being played with!

Realizing this belatedly, Alice immediately went rigid. She worked hard to suppress her trembling and tried to calm down.

〖 L E V E L 1 __ T U R N I T T O L E V E L 1 I S E N O U G H 〗

〖 B U T A L I C E S O U N D S A N D L O O K S L I K E Y O U W A N T M E T O T U R N I T T O 2 __ T H E M I L K I S F L O W I N G L I K E A B R E A C H E D D A M 〗

How would I know what I look or sound like right now! Alice exhaled hot air and twisted her waist and neck pointlessly.

〖 N O __ T U R N I T T O 1 __ J U S T 1 I S E N O U G H __ A B S O L U T E L Y D O N O T T U R N I T T O 2 __ O T H E R W I S E I ' L L L O S E E V E N T H E A B I L I T Y T O U S E P R O S T H E T I C S __ A N D C O M P L E T E L Y B E C O M E A T O Y A T T H E M E R C Y O F A N Y O N E 〗

〖 Y E S Y E S Y E S __ M I S S A L I C E 〗

During the machine's ten-or-so seconds of operation, Alice was panting heavily, hoping Isa had truly heard her. But when she saw — visible above the chair-back in her field of view — two tubes, not one, ejecting from the helmet, a bone-weary despair settled over her.

Level 2 after all.

The fluid level gradually dropped. A faint trace of pain began moving through the residual body. When the mild pain disappeared, Alice felt something had been lost — the severed limb stumps felt entirely comfortable and natural, as if she had simply been born without them.

The fact that she would permanently lose her limbs was like a mountain pressing down on Alice, crushing the last trace of hope, reshaping her into a living toy whose only purpose for existence was being played with and violated.

Alice breathed in sharp, rapid gasps, a wave of dizziness enveloping her consciousness.

〖 A H __ T H I S S C R E E N S A Y S __ S H O U L D D R A I N N U T R I E N T L I Q U I D B E F O R E D E S T R U C T I O N __ H M __ S O T H I S L E V E R C A N B E P U L L E D J U S T A L I T T L E B I T M O R E 〗

Isa's words, converted to text, entered Alice's mind, bringing her back.

The glass pod containing her body had returned to transparent. Her beautiful body knelt and leaned, soft in the ankle-deep liquid, golden hair damp and scattered across smooth skin. Undamaged.

There's still hope! Both the genetic lock and the neural lock were based on the current body! As long as she transferred back to the original body and re-locked using the original body as the reference, she could recover!

〖 D O N ' T D E S T R O Y I T __ I A C T U A L L Y D O N ' T W A N T T O B E A T O Y F O R E V E R 〗

Alice immediately called out through the room broadcast!

〖 M I S S A L I C E __ I T ' S N O T G O O D T O D E C E I V E Y O U R S E L F 〗

Isa left the console, walked to Alice's chair and rotated it one hundred eighty degrees, then raised the wireless terminal strapped to her leg and pressed something.

The sound of the machine and her own breathing returned to Alice's ears. She heard herself. And saw herself.

Though Alice's completely opening-only face showed no trace of any expression, she could see—

She could see the fluid flowing continuously into her cleavage, the enormous breasts continuously spraying milk.

She could see the arousal fluid soaking through the soft cushion below her, running down the chair's edge like a leaking pipe.

She could see every flesh passage trembling and convulsing, climaxing continuously without any external stimulation.

Her state was self-evident without any facial expression at all.

Why is this happening… clearly she was about to become a completely defenseless toy… and yet, her body was this excited…

“No… it's not like that, haah~ ♡ I'm not… expecting this…”

“No? Then, if Alice doesn't want to permanently become a latex doll who can do nothing but be played with, say so?”

Who would want that! Losing all freedom, losing the ability to move, unable to do anything without another person's help, every person who saw her would be fully entitled to play with her however they liked — and she couldn't even eat or drink without begging for someone's help, surviving only by luring people to play with her.

“I don't want… ♡ to become… haah… ♡ something anyone can play with… ♡ I don't want it… I really don't want it ♡ haah, mmh, ahhhhhhhh~ ♡!”

“Then, I'll transfer you back~ ?”

Isa walked back to the console and raised a finger, hovering.

“No… don't… ♡”

Alice felt she must surely have gone mad.

“Did it slip out? I'm going to restore you to your original state — turn you back into a normal young woman~”

“No… ♡”

Yes. Definitely mad. Who would voluntarily give up human identity to become a plaything at everyone's mercy?

“Mm-hm-hm — then I'm going to destroy this complete body~ ♡”

Alice shook violently, her heart nearly leaping through her mouth-onahole.

“No response? Then, three—”

Transfer back now! The green hills remain, if you want to become like this again later you can always do it!

“Two~”

Say it now! Just say you want to return to being human, and you can have the free, original body back!

“One~ ♡”

Just say it!

“Zero— ♡!”

Click.

Beep — beep —, a warning sounded.

The glass pod, nutritional fluid drained, lit red again. The glass went black.

Alice's breathing stopped. Every muscle in her body tensed to its absolute limit.

Only about two seconds seemed to pass, and then the glass went transparent again.

Inside — nothing but a pile of ash.

“So it burns them — no wonder it had to drain the liquid first~ ♡”

“Alice? Miss Alice?”

“Hey? Hello?”

Strange — what was I just doing?

Oh, right… my best friend put me here, and then…

Then I was permanently fixed as a latex doll, for the rest of my life to be manipulated however anyone pleased — unable to resist, unable even to complain.

Wave after wave of tingling itch echoed through Alice's mind.

Yes. From now on, I am permanently a disabled person without four limbs. A plaything without a face.

Only by wearing the helmet can I perceive the world. From now on, this black oval, with only a mouth-onahole and a single headlamp, is my face. Only a latex flesh-block capable of squirming, contracting onaholes, and producing milk is my body.

The oval helmet on my head, and beneath it the latex sealing my features, skin pulled taut to its limit, together strip away my facial expressions. This limbless body strips away physical gestures. Even to speak, I must rely on equipment others connect for me.

From now on, I am only a sex doll without human characteristics. An object. Without explanation, no one would consider this version of myself to be human.

Glossy black inseparable latex skin — it will be touched only by others, and Alice will never be able to touch herself again.

A pair of modified, endlessly-lactating enormous breasts. A vertically straight digestive tract. Grips fixed throughout the body. They will make it convenient for those she can never refuse, to play with her however they want.

Her unclosable onaholes will always be hungry, luring others to violate them.

An unprecedented despair enveloped her — the final abyss she had set for herself.

Perhaps also the very peak of heaven.

“—@μ#○Σ♡!!”

Alice arched backward, and from the throat without vocal cords came the largest breath-sound she was capable of producing.

Nothing and no one was stimulating her erogenous zones. Yet, she was experiencing the most violent, most freeing peak climax of her entire life.

VIII. Mutual Dependence

“Oh no — why did I have a moment of madness and do something like this…”

Facing the unconscious Alice in the chair, Isa wanted nothing more than to travel back ten minutes and slap herself.

What she had done just now, riding the high of the moment, had truly gone too far — even with Alice's explicit and willing indication.

Alice could no longer return to her original body, and could no longer control prosthetics through her own will. Which meant from today, Alice had completely ended her identity as a human being and could never return to a normal life. From here on, she could only live as a toy.

By comparison, Isa's previous actions — modifying her own breast-onaholes, or inserting cables into her body to make love with her best friend — were completely trivial. After all, she just had to take the equipment off, and she still looked like an ordinary farm girl.

Even with explicit indication — did she truly have the right to ruin another person's entire life? Especially when the person wrapped in latex before her was not a stranger but her best friend of so many years.

Having come this far, she could only take responsibility.

Alice felt like she was floating in a boundless ocean. Boundless silence and darkness surrounded her.

No reason to try swimming — after all this time, the fact of having no limbs was long since etched into her mind. Her eyes and ears were both permanently sealed, and even if freed, recovering their function would probably be difficult now.

“Alice…”

Someone was calling her. It was… Isa.

“…Wake up…”

But it was warm and quiet here. Why would she need to wake?

“…Forgive me…”

What was Isa saying? Had she done something wrong?

— Wait, actually she had!

Alice jolted, and arched upward into wakefulness. The visual and auditory signals in the helmet immediately became clear, and the body that had felt like it was soaking in warm foam became real. The artificial breeze in the base, mild and measured, passed over the latex skin, air sliding through the permanently open onaholes, and a little pink colour returned to her thoughts.

Before her, a sleek and sexy human-shaped figure was prostrating completely on the ground before her. Her brown hair, tied in a ponytail, fell from the small hole at the back of the latex hood and lay flat against the floor together with her forehead.

Alice exhaled a breath of warm air from her permanently round mouth-onahole.

From her memories, Isa had been a rather proud child from a young age. Such a deep bow was perhaps the first time she had ever performed one.

Well — though it was different from the original plan, it was ultimately Alice herself who had agreed to the arrangement in a moment of impulse. It was hard to truly blame her best friend for this, and seeing her like this, the resentment dissipated.

“…You really did it, didn't you.”

Her language information connected through the collar, transmitted via wireless signal to the indoor broadcast system, and rang out.

Now that it had come to this — she might as well think about what to do from here.

She couldn't spend her life in this facility, and if she returned to civilized society, her body would in all likelihood mean saying farewell to her human identity.

Deceive others by claiming to have been cursed into this state by dark magic? No — Alice had no desire to be scrutinized by every person with a mixture of pity and suspicion. And her appearance, made entirely for sexual purposes, combined with a victim identity, would lead people to assume she'd had more than enough of erotic matters and would then deprive her of any satisfaction. That was absolutely not acceptable.

Almost naturally, the memory of Snowball's declaration upon seeing her and Isa surfaced: “I understand — she's your master!”

Master, master…

Just thinking the word made Alice feel her onaholes contracting and trembling.

Even though she'd only been reunited with Isa for less than a day, Alice felt she could already no longer do without the feeling of being played with freely by her. Even as a portion of her mind still couldn't let go of her pride, her heart had already vaguely begun wanting to address her that way.

Why had she made such a reckless decision just now? Only to gain pleasure from sacrificing her own body? Why had she paid such a disproportionate price without any apparent reason, becoming a latex doll who was completely helpless without another person's assistance?

I understand now. The decision she had made in a rush of intensity just now was also — in order to become a truly real toy, to thoroughly destroy her own pride, to remove the obstacle and recognize Isa as her master.

Her heart beat intensely. After a long silence, Alice finally addressed the prostrated Isa.

“I—”

“I understand! From now on, I'll shoulder responsibility for Alice's remaining life! Let me become Alice's arms and legs!”

…What?

“I'm truly sorry! For doing this to Alice! Though only helping you do what you can no longer do yourself can't really be called compensation — but if it can make Alice less sad! I'm willing to always be your arms and legs!”

“Whether it's cutting off my own limbs! Or something even more extreme! Whatever Alice needs to do to me to compensate, you can!”

“…That would just be a slave…”

Alice offered a mild observation.

“Yes! A slave! Like Reverend Swanson once described… someone completely obedient, with no rights of their own…! I did something that extreme — even making Alice my master wouldn't be excessive!”

“…Sigh. I could never argue with you, even back then.”

Alice exhaled.

“Ahh… I actually worked up quite a lot of courage to say all that… my face is burning…”

Isa stood up. Milk trickled from the breast-onaholes, running down along the name-engraved pendants on her breast rings and dripping off. And the inner thigh area was naturally also soaked through.

She was probably enjoying herself thoroughly just from saying that. Alice wanted to tease, but her own several uncovered onaholes were empty and hollow, her whole body burning hot. She definitely didn't look any better than Isa right now.

“Speaking of which — just now, Alice, ah, I mean — master — were you about to say something?”

Isa tilted her head slightly, fluid flowing from the mouth around the circular gag.

“Having my best friend call me master is so strange… How about you just keep calling me Alice like always?”

“Uu… okay… so, Alice-master, what were you about to say just now?”

“That form of address is fine too, though just Alice would be more comfortable — as for what I was about to say, you'll know soon enough ♡”

“Sss huu…”

Isa lay on the operating table in anxious suspense. The collar had been removed from her neck, and the latex sealing her eyes and ears returned her to darkness and silence.

According to Alice — master's — explanation, this was where she had turned herself into her current form.

“Since Isa is master's slave now, she needs a form worthy of her master.”

Alice had said this. Isa agreed with this from the bottom of her heart. After all, while she kept calling her master, the act of carrying her to the operating room's main control panel and connecting her to the brain-machine interface was something that could only be accomplished if Isa herself was willing — no one else could do it.

So she too needed to look the part of a slave. Otherwise, some drowsy day she might actually forget she already belonged to Alice.

But Alice wouldn't tell her the modification contents — only that she wouldn't be anaesthetised throughout the entire surgical process, which made Isa intensely nervous while also anticipating.

First came the sensation of liquid spraying on her face, and the whole body of black latex dissolved. The collar enabling her to perceive the outside world had been removed for only a few minutes before Isa's sight returned.

The red latex covering the inner walls of all her passages dissolved simultaneously and quickly vaporized out rather than flowing like the exterior black latex — though this created a slightly acrid, spicy feeling, it avoided the fluid flowing deeper into her body.

A mechanical arm descended and removed the decorative rings through the onahole petals. It severed the cable connecting her detachable cock to her lower abdomen. Finally, it bored into her upper chest and fixed an electronically-switched filter tube at the upper edge of the sternum, inserted so it occupied the entire airway.

Isa tried to breathe, but this thing deeply embedded in her throat blocking the airway and preventing her from actively breathing was very uncomfortable. Her nausea and coughing were suppressed by medication, which made it feel even stranger. Especially knowing that from now on, no air would pass through the vocal tract — she had effectively become mute — and thinking about this made her feel somewhat dejected. And especially—

“…”

The circular mouth-gag and the occupied airway both prevented Isa from speaking. She could only make faces at the camera at the head of the bed.

“Then the surgery begins. First is permanent full-body hair removal — close your eyes~”

“—”

Without the collar's assistance, Isa could only silently resist, then obediently close her eyes. Strangely-scented liquid sprayed from all sides, splattering into mouth and nose. Not much discomfort in the mouth, but when scentless liquid flushed over her body afterwards, Isa clearly felt the weight of her hair vanish.

When Alice-master said she could open her eyes, Isa saw her own completely bare self in the mirror suspended above the operating table. Not just head hair and body hair — even eyebrows and eyelashes were completely gone.

Realizing she too was stepping onto a road from which there was no return, two lines of tears rolled from the edges of Isa's eyes — but master only responded with amused laughter.

“Now comes the part requiring incisions~”

The mechanical arms injected anaesthetic. Shortly after, Isa felt everything below her eyes lose sensation. The mirror suspended above transformed into a black screen, and Alice, with a certain perverse relish, described the surgical process in words.

“After removing your mouth-gag, first all the teeth will be extracted~ After that, your face will be temporarily cut open, exposing the upper and lower jaw bones~”

The shadow of a mechanical arm swayed close overhead, accompanied by a tooth-aching drilling-and-cutting sound, and Isa felt she was about to urinate.

“Then, the majority of your upper and lower jaw bones will be trimmed away — leaving only what's necessary to maintain the face's shape. The lower half of your nose and your tongue will be removed, and the nasal cavity and oral cavity connected together, to create space for the cloned vagina to be implanted~”

“Once the nerves and muscles are connected, except for the fact that you can't become pregnant, it will be completely your own onahole~ From now on you'll only be able to consume nutritional fluid, and speaking will require assistance from a collar or similar device~ ♡ From now on your face is a masturbation sleeve~ When not in use, it'll be plugged just like my mouth-onahole ♡”

Isa blinked continuously, helplessly shedding tears. After being modified this way, how could she ever face anyone? Every person who saw her would instantly know she was a creature with depravity written across her entire face.

“Oh my oh my — you can't stop your arousal fluid, can you. Incidentally, I've already completed the second modification while I was at it~”

“I've implanted an electronic lock at the back of your skull~ Initially it won't have any effect, but 48 hours later it will interrupt the signals controlling your body, causing you to be able to maintain only stillness~ In other words, you'll become a toy doll, held in whatever pose you're placed in and maintaining it continuously, without even a fraction of your own ability to control your body~ ♡”

“Don't worry about forgetting — if you happen to have external visual/auditory equipment or other limbs, their sensitivity will begin gradually decreasing starting twelve hours before the 48-hour mark, until they all lose control together ♡”

“To regain body control, you'll need to receive one activity authorization from me — the method of authorization is: I take the electronic key in my mouth and proactively insert it into your body, causing it to vibrate until it syncs with the electronic lock~ After that you can continue moving freely for 48 hours ♡”

“Hoo hoo hoo — this might actually be somewhat dangerous, since I can be shut down~ Once we're separated for too long, or if my authorization expires while I'm in shutdown mode, we'll both become toys that anyone can arrange however they please~ ♡”

As Alice's words concluded, Isa felt sensation gradually return to her body from top to bottom. The opened areas had no pain, but when she tried to open her mouth, nothing happened.

Her lower jaw had become a tool for maintaining her face's shape. From now on, her mouth could never open and close again — only be expanded by a thick cock's insertion.

The tube inserted into the airway breathed for her instead. Her four limbs had only faint tactile sensation and couldn't move. Isa could only tremble, shedding tears.

”Last is the latex spray~ Poor Isa, this time just like me, you'll have the surface layer of your skin completely replaced by latex liquid, becoming a complete latex doll who would die of infection without it. Really looking forward to this~ Ah — close your eyes, spraying them would cause blindness~ ♡”

Isa quickly closed her eyes, and then mildly warm liquid sprayed on her body, rapidly cooling. The adhesion was tighter than when body hair still existed. As it rapidly dried, the skin was pulled taut again, and thin, smooth latex covered the entire body once more.

Now her world was black and silent again. Dimly, Isa felt hard mechanical hands adjusting her limbs, setting both hands in a loose-grip shape and both feet pointing straight downward.

Then the mechanical hands pried open her masturbation-sleeve mouth, pried open her pussy and rear passage, pried open the breast-onaholes and urethra, and inserted several slender objects deep within. Liquid sprayed out from the inserted objects in all directions, adhering to the inner walls and coating the interior of the passages in vivid red.

— Though she couldn't see, Isa knew it must be a striking red.

When these spray devices buried deep within her were withdrawn together with the breathing tube, Isa trembled into a silent climax.

The nasal cavity no longer existed, and when she instinctively tried to breathe through her nostrils, Isa felt an extremely tiny narrow hole at the centre of her face contract, touching an inserted foreign body — bringing a sharp, addictive pleasure. Though she could no longer breathe through mouth or nose, each time she forgot this and instinctively tried to breathe, the passage replacing her nostrils would use pleasure to remind her of her identity as a sex toy.

“— ♡!”

In darkness and silence, her waist was lifted, and something solid passed through the space beneath, encircling her waist, compressing her formerly slightly pudgy midsection to its absolute limit. The narrow filter replacing her mouth and nose already made breathing difficult, and now being controlled by an even tighter corset at the diaphragm, the sensation of suffocation enveloped all of consciousness.

Isa trembled, slowly working her gradually-mobilizing four limbs, spraying her arousal fluid and milk.

A sharp pain pierced through her clitoris, sending her into climax once more. The piercing at the lower edge of the breast-onaholes was reinserted, and three ornaments were hung from her breasts and clitoris.

Then, several vibrators slightly larger than the maximum dimensions she had previously been expanded to were inserted into both lower passages, the breast-onaholes, and her mouth. The clit and nipple ornaments also began vibrating simultaneously, pleasure flooding into the body with its sight and hearing absent — making it even more sensitive — causing her to arch her still-obedient waist into continuous climaxes.

The cock's sensation returned to the port on her lower abdomen. The full-body tingling pleasure peaked at this moment, and Isa tightened every part of her body, unable to do anything more besides receiving the pleasure churning and boiling inside her.

She trembled violently. The plugged flesh passages wanted to spray but couldn't, with only the milk flowing through subcutaneous tubes into the external cock and being converted to pseudo-semen spraying continuously. She pressed both hands against the masturbation-sleeve on the cock, transforming the despair and anticipation of her post-modification state into concentrated fluid, abandoning all thought, experiencing the joy of existence like a dying animal.

When Isa's climax left her limbs drained of strength, the long-awaited cold metal sensation finally arrived at her neck.

Visual information returned through the collar's pendant. She saw the large mirror suspended over the operating table.

In it was herself. The handles still extended horizontally from her cheeks, and in place of the mouth-gag, a fake cock pried open her masturbation-sleeve mouth, its base connected to her collar by a chain, the vivid red base edge making that intimate area even more conspicuous. The dark-red corset made her look slimmer than before, and also made the pair of enormous breasts appear even larger, the nipple ornaments having changed from engraved nameplates to two oval metal balls that projected a glowing phantom of her name into the air as they vibrated — still her name, but more conspicuous than ever.

“Uhmm hmm hmm…”

Isa wanted to ask Alice to loosen the corset a little, but instead of her expected language, the text projected into her consciousness indicated that while wearing something in the mouth-onahole, everything Isa wanted to say would be filtered into the sounds made when one's mouth is stuffed full.

She sighed and kept looking downward. Her thumb tips and ring-fingertips were connected by latex, both hands fixed into O-shapes — no longer able to grasp anything except rod-shaped objects. And the “masturbation sleeve” that these O-shaped hands were squeezing on the cock was unmistakably Alice's own head! Her gourd-like body was lying between her legs, with the entire cock swallowed deep into the mouth-onahole!

“Hmm hmm! Hmm hmm hmm hmm—?!”

The pendant on the collar emitted a panicked sound, and Isa immediately released the hand pressing on her helmet. Alice showed absolutely no sign of getting up, and instead used her mouth-onahole to contract and squeeze the cock again and again.

“Seeing how you kept climaxing, I wanted some too. Satisfying your master's desires is a slave's natural duty, isn't it?”

No need to move her mouth — and indeed no ability to speak with her mouth — Alice quipped through the indoor broadcast system.

The ancient facility had gained many full-length mirrors, many printed toys, and some newly fabricated everyday items.

Now I'm living the life I want — at least, the life I want right now.

Through the helmet, Alice looked at herself in the mirror, smiling inwardly.

In the mirror, Isa — her theoretical slave — stood on tiptoe like a ballerina, the thin pointed heels fixed beneath her latex feet distributing some of the pressure, spreading her weight across four points.

But even without these over-the-knee pointed ballet heels, her feet couldn't assume any position other than fully pointed under the latex's control.

The balance field set by Alice on the corset prevented her from falling, though too-frequent field activation would result in punishment.

Isa's collar pendant could provide her with sight and hearing now, but the content could be freely filtered by her master. Under Alice's current settings, anything Isa looked at unrelated to pleasure appeared as a blurry shapeless obstacle, and she could only hear both their voices and erotic sounds.

But if she relied on the balance field too often to maintain her balance, the collar would automatically trigger punishment — for one hour afterward, everything Isa saw would be only outlines, sound completely cut off, with only language converted to text floating before her eyes.

The result was that even in only three or four days, she had been forced to train her balance to the point of standing quite steadily — even in the current situation.

The arousal fluid from their joining had already pooled in a small puddle on the floor. Both their milk flew from all four breast-onaholes with the up-and-down motion of their joining.

“Alice, Alice-master, I'm going to come again—”

“Mm — shoot it all inside my onahole ♡ don't stop your hands either, huu, nnn nnn nnn~ ♡”

In the mirror, Alice was plugged onto Isa's cock. Her O-shaped hands each gripped a protrusion-studded fake cock, simultaneously working her master's pussy and breast-onahole.

Isa's mouth-onahole vibrator had fallen out at some point, slapping against the back of Alice's helmet with the movement. But neither Isa, working hard to breathe, nor Alice with her headlamp flickering yellow, showed any sign of stopping.

Because this was the life they both wanted.

“Wuf. Wuf wuf.”

Snowball had intended to wait for the two to finish their joining, but ran out of patience first — dragging Isa's herb basket, it walked into both their fields of view, raised its head, and looked at Alice through the mirror.

Even through the pleasure, Alice still had enough composure to understand its body language. Snowball wanted the basket as a toy.

“Say — Isa, Snowball wants—”

“Haah mmh mmh mmh mmh mmh!!”

Isa suddenly pulled the two vibrators from Alice's breast-onaholes. Her two O-shaped hands clutching the cock pressed against her own face, the pendant on her collar producing a wail.

“I forgot I was out gathering herbs! Uncle and everyone are going to be worried sick!!”

Alice barely recovered from the breast-onahole climax, spraying milk as she worked to lean back and maintain balance.

“So — shall we go back for a visit?”

“But — Alice — how do we go back and face people with bodies like this…”

“We'll start thinking of a plan now. Difficulties are just there to be overcome, aren't they?”

Besides — spending all day and night in the base doing nothing but having sex would grow stale eventually.

More importantly: having finally permanently become this kind of body that seemed to exist solely to serve others — spending only a cosy two-person life with dear Isa in the comfort zone, wouldn't that be a waste?

Alice drew herself upright in her body with all four limbs gone, and looked at the latex doll plugged onto a latex doll in the mirror, smiling in her heart.

Chapter 4

Archived Version

Maybe someday this won't quite fit the "latex doll" label anymore, so I'm dropping it from the title for now~ (Update: put it back. w)
Isa, who came out to gather herbs and has now completely forgotten that fact — four days have somehow passed, and how on earth is she going to explain this to Aidan?
Commissioned work; author still: 日白幕升 user/25228747

It never occurred to me that a filthy little stroke-fic cobbled together from the garbage pile in my brain could actually grow into a four-part series... The reason I commissioned this chapter was that it felt like a waste to do all that modification and never have a "putting it to use" installment — though looking at it now, I feel like even more detail could've been crammed in.

Honestly, I'm deeply into contrast as a kink. Take body modification as an example: most works with modification elements end at the modification itself, or wrap up with sex right after. But I also want to see what comes after that. The day only has so many hours — you can't be having sex for twenty-four of them. Life goes on regardless. And there's something about everyday activities carried out in a body made inconvenient by modification — that contrast of the "ordinary" inside the "extraordinary" — that hits me right in the kink (affirmative).

So if the opportunity comes up, maybe there'll be a Chapter Five, or an epilogue?

If you have any ideas or scenes you'd like to see, feel free to leave a comment~

I. A Homecoming Journey, Perfectly Prepared

The button was pressed. A faint electrical hiss passed through the girl's skull.

The indicator lamp on Alice's helmet — the one that provided her with sight and hearing — went dark. She returned to boundless darkness and silence, breathing calmly through her latex skin, waiting for everything that was supposed to continue according to plan.

A sharp sting travelled up from her throat. The breathing aperture, healed shut from long disuse, was cut open. Filtered air entered through the tube inserted into her neck, passively moving in and out of her lungs, bringing with it a sense of relief she hadn't felt in a long time. The tube went deep into the airway, its black filter mesh sitting flush against the throat's surface — at a glance, it merged seamlessly with the surrounding latex.

Now that she thought about it, Alice hadn't breathed through her mouth, nose, and lungs in quite a while. Since the day she had personally dismantled the majority of her lower jaw and part of her upper jaw from this depraved body, remaking them into a permanently-gaping circular mouth-onahole packed with red latex, and then filled her nasal cavity with plugs that integrated into the latex mask — she had been limited to breathing through her skin. After all, the latex inner lining sealed within the mouth-onahole ran straight through the modified-into-a-through-passage digestive tract all the way to the rear onahole, and that same latex membrane had semi-permanently pinned the epiglottis in the throat, sealing the entrance and exit of the windpipe.

Which meant, perhaps, that the long-term oxygen deprivation caused by being limited to skin-breathing alone was the actual root cause of every foolish decision she kept making?

Alice had a moment of sudden clarity, though realizing this now was, to put it mildly, rather too late.

She felt the soft foam encasing her body with perfect fidelity on every side. Her latex skin was more sensitive than normal human skin, allowing her to perceive the contour of every inch of herself through tactile feedback.

She had permanently lost every inch of her limbs — the rounded stumps of her shoulders and the sphere of her buttocks were now where her body ended. Whether restored by ancient technology or fitted with prosthetics, her recalibrated consciousness would never again understand how to use limbs. Her breasts swelled unusually, a portion of her body's life energy diverted at every moment to producing milk, and several biological fibres added by modification had given these enormous melon-like spheres the distinction of being the only part of her body capable of significant movement besides her spine and shoulder blades. Every insertable opening on her body — except the urethra — had been expanded to accommodate at minimum a fist, and without something filling them at all times, they burned with an empty, itching restlessness that spread through the whole body.

Alice was a toy, through and through. Even if the base's equipment were used to construct a new body with all organs intact, it would still be a thing — four limbs immovable, only able to receive whatever anyone chose to do to it.

The deep, unobstructed breathing sharpened Alice's consciousness considerably, but even keenly aware of her condition, she felt neither sorrow nor regret.

For one thing, she had chosen every step that had led here. For another, Alice was not alone on this road of depravity.

While her thoughts ran their course, new visual and auditory information was gradually integrating in Alice's mind. The images came not from her helmet but from twelve pinhole cameras mounted on the surface of the box, each fixed in a different direction, none capable of rotating. The auditory shift was manageable — only a slight change in timbre. But processing simultaneous imagery from front, back, left, right, above, and below all at once was enough to make even a genius like Alice momentarily dizzy.

“External cameras and projection equipment, calibrated. Isa, close the lid. I need to adjust to the new perspective.”

The text she was intensely thinking appeared projected into the air directly from the raised nodes on the box's surface. Alice looked at it through her new perspective — everything was still a jumbled overlap for now, but Isa outside could naturally read the words.

Isa — formerly Alice's best friend, theoretically her slave now, one of only two humans in this secret base — heard the instruction and nodded.

The heavy lid descended, its embedded vibrators along with it. The cocks inserted themselves precisely into Alice's mouth-onahole and breast-onaholes. The one in the mouth-onahole extended all the way down and interlocked with the vibrator fixed in the other half of the box via her rear passage, ensuring the box couldn't be easily opened. The two in the breast-onaholes began dutifully alternating between suction and vibration, drawing Alice's milk out in a continuous stream and storing it in the milk reservoir at the box's base. A separate compartment collected urine drawn from Alice's urethra via a soft tube, separated from the nutritional fluid that would be injected into her body by only a thin layer of plastic.

Alice gave a contented wriggle. Her entire body was now tightly embraced by the carbon-fibre foam lining the box. With no limbs to begin with, being wrapped and fixed like this eliminated all mobility entirely. The interior of the box was warm and close, but the enormous vibrators inside her maintained the cool ambient temperature, transmitting both freshness and pleasure to Alice simultaneously.

Beyond the multidirectional cameras, the three-dimensional projection system, and the life-support functions, this box had one final capability. Whenever the Isa on the outside felt like it, a single passcode could turn the opaque black exterior and snug padding fully transparent, and unlock the interlocking connection between the rear-passage vibrator and the mouth-onahole vibrator, at which point the box that had been concealing Alice's existence would become her display case — inviting the eligible men of her hometown to violate her freely.

Alice's face, sealed beneath latex with no functional jaw, could form no expression. Even if it could, the oval helmet over her head would block it. She simply smiled inwardly. Text projected into the air: “Is Isa ready?”

“Last step, Alice-master~”

The voice that answered her was a synthesis — bright, cheerful, full of sunshine.

Isa — Alice's best friend and slave, the person who had made Alice permanently lose her limbs, the only other living human in this iron base, and also the only other latex doll — was bent at the waist, reviewing the voice lexicon generated by the base's computer, occasionally adjusting the camera on her collar to turn her field of view and read the screen in different spots. Once she confirmed the vocabulary would be sufficient, she brought down her hand — fixed into a loop-grip by the latex — and struck the button executing the program.

A mechanical arm moved a latex head-cover over Isa's face. First, it lifted the two rods extending from behind the mask's mouth and nose area — one thick, one thin — and inserted them into Isa's facial “vagina” and “urethra” respectively, pressing all the way into her throat. Unlike Alice, Isa's mouth-onahole, after the upper and lower jaws were removed, had been shaped to perfectly recreate a vulva — major and minor labia included. Her nose had also been restructured: two nostrils merged into a single narrow urethra, a sensitive, tight passage connecting into the depths of her throat.

When these two rods were inserted to the root, the flexible gel rods immediately stiffened and began vibrating at a frequency just below the threshold of human hearing. They existed to secure the head-cover — at least, that was what Alice said.

“All normal.”

Isa, trembling from the vibrating rod fully filling her mouth-onahole, propped herself against the table with both hands, arousal fluid dripping down. Compared to just before she was plugged, the synthesized voice from her collar now came out strangely calm and halting — this was because a setting in her collar's base programming prevented speech when the mouth-onahole was occupied. To maintain communication and conceal their identities upon returning home, she could only string together sentences from the registered lexicon and play them back.

The mechanical arm continued, seating the rods into their deepest positions in her mouth and nose, then helping adjust the strikingly lifelike head-cover until Isa's face, from the outside, was exactly Isa's face from before her modifications at Alice's base. As for the inability to make expressions, and the conspicuous side-grip handles on her cheeks — those were problems that would find solutions eventually.

Next, the mechanical arm helped Isa into a simple, loose-fitting robe and specially designed long gloves — ones that could be donned even with hands permanently locked in loop-grip and that recreated the impression of five distinct fingers. Her feet, semi-permanently fixed inside the toe-tip point of extreme stiletto heels, were put into a pair of long flat-soled boots with adjusted proportions — from the outside, no one would realize Isa was walking on the absolute limit of a tip-toe. The black latex on her calves was equally invisible. If anyone asked about the height difference from last time, increased-height insoles was a ready-made answer.

The loose robe was truly the only workable option for concealment: since Isa's modifications, her chest — which had already been on the cusp of extraordinary before — had grown into unambiguous territory. Ordinary clothing would only make the pair of breasts that now hung to waist level and sometimes lower even more conspicuous. And the sensitive latex cock extending from her pubic mound via a difficult-to-detach cable — whether fixed to the mound as usual or strapped to her thigh as now — was impossible to hide under normal clothing regardless. The loose robe could conceal quite a lot, but it also meant Isa looked distinctly suspicious, and any slight suspicion followed by a lifted hem would expose this body of hers to the townspeople, a body one could only describe as obscene.

Isa's loop-grip hands reached for the box's handle, which parted open naturally and slid into the circle her hands formed before fusing together again. The mechanical-silk fibres within the four latex limb-sleeves, temporarily adjusted in their parameters, compensated for the reduced and softened musculature left by the modifications. The balance-assist device on the corset was also unlocked, allowing her to move quickly in her “flat” heels with feet arched to their absolute limit without falling.

“All preparations complete, yes?” The Isa with her mouth-onahole fully plugged assembled a sentence from the lexicon recordings and played it aloud.

They should be ready. Isa now wore the strikingly lifelike mask, her body with its sex-toy modifications concealed. Alice was placed inside the box and would be carried by Isa. This time, Isa was only going back to town to check in and confirm she was alive — but keeping Alice along was preferable, to prevent the separation from triggering the modification-installed separation penalty if they were apart too long and leaving Isa with her joint movements frozen back home.

Precisely because it was only a welfare check, Alice had not used the base's facilities to restore Isa's body to its original state. Not because it couldn't be done, but because changing it back and then modifying it again was genuinely, enormously tedious — time-consuming, energy-consuming, and wasteful of the ancient energy that, while seemingly inexhaustible at a glance, was actually finite and non-renewable.

As a side note, Isa's clone body was being quietly cultivated by Alice without Isa's awareness. In a few more months, if Isa wanted to go outside in the guise of a normal person, she could transfer her consciousness directly into the new body.

Unlike the disasters that had resulted from previous inadequate preparations, Alice had this time made thorough preparations for every possible contingency. The base had expended a full three percent of its total energy reserves manufacturing various mechanical components to completely fortify the defences — it was now more impregnable than the rumoured royal palace. Snowball, the magic wolf on home watch, had also absorbed the lesson of last time — when a low-tier monster had tunnelled in and damaged the energy core — and would be considerably more vigilant.

As for Alice and Isa themselves, each had a teleportation device anchored to the inner wall of the uterus. A deliberate mental trigger, or more than twelve hours without maintaining consciousness to mentally confirm a safety code, would automatically teleport them back to the base. Of course, whether triggered deliberately or automatically, activating this last resort would incur a quite terrifying penalty — limb severance (Isa only), plus a full month of abstinence.

Just thinking about it made Alice shudder inwardly. Even with the penalty-game's body-wide restrictions on the “if not inserted, then” prohibitions suspended for both of them, her corrupted body and soul would undoubtedly crave sex the way normal people craved air. And while Isa's level of depravity was presumably below Alice's own, a month of losing all four limbs and being unable to do anything might be an even more terrible punishment for her.

“Ready. Let's go.”

Adapting to the new omnidirectional perspective and the stimulation from vibrations in all her onaholes as she sat inside the box, Alice projected text into the air, visible to Isa through the gap between her collar and the bottom of her chin.

With a new sensation of motion, Alice's field of view shifted as the box moved. She was carried by Isa through the base's steel corridors, leaving the forest facility to the sound of Snowball's mournful, reluctant barking.

And so, what appeared at a glance to be simply a woman in a long robe carrying a case — but was in truth two people modified beyond recognition, who would capitulate and become compliant flesh-toys for anyone at all at the slightest provocation — left the comfort of the base and set out on a journey that was absolutely, positively going to go without a hitch.

II. Mishaps Always Occur Where Least Imagined

Alice was, if she was honest with herself, a little afraid of going out.

After all: the last time she'd gone out, she had very nearly starved to death in the wilderness as a limbless stump — and if she hadn't encountered Isa, she would have. And after encountering Isa, while she had survived, she had gotten so excited in the moment that she'd ended up as the permanently-limbless toy-body she was now.

This trip was the same. Even with all the preparations made, the Isa carrying Alice looked at a glance like just a woman in a long robe carrying a case, and even pulling back the hood revealed Isa's own face. But in reality, her hands inside the black latex were fixed in loop-grips, her latex face-mask would show no expression and would never open or close at the mouth, conspicuous male-use grip handles extended from both sides of her cheeks, and she carried a pair of enormous breasts markedly larger than when she'd left the village. With a body like that, forget talking to Uncle Aidan at the farm on the way back — one careful look from anyone on the road would be enough for an immediate exposure.

So Isa had pulled up her hood and was walking quickly, the large case carrying Alice swaying and lurching with each step. The cock-shaped anchors that fixed Alice to the case by mouth, lower body, and both breasts churned through her latex human-torso body, keeping her in a continuous cascade of climax between worry and anticipation about being discovered and becoming a permanent sex slave.

But the journey was, unexpectedly, remarkably smooth. The ballet heels, aided by the corset's balance field, hadn't slowed Isa down too significantly, and the trip through the forest had been free of any danger or strangers. The secret base was only a dozen or so kilometres from the village, and after three or four hours of travel, the two of them had arrived at the grove at the edge of town.

Through the multiple camera lenses on the case, Alice observed the familiar forest path, her inner tension and excitement gradually settling. Now, all they had to do was—

“Who's there? What are you doing here?!”

The section of forest path leading into the village had poor visibility to begin with, and Isa could barely see anything except through the gap between her chin and her collar via the pendant camera. Therefore, only when several vaguely familiar figures stepped out from behind the tree cover and raised their voices did she finally register their presence.

Three militiamen, levelling crude spears at the approach of a strange woman in a long robe carrying an unidentified object.

Alice's heart clenched. They'd appeared too early. This wasn't supposed to be in the patrol range. She wasn't ready. She was going to be discovered. They were going to find out she was a latex flesh toy and carry her off to be used for the rest of her life.

“It's me, Isa. It's been a while.”

Isa's pre-set collar-voice was unflappable, conveying nothing of the trembling in her knees. Through the case's cameras, Alice looked up at Isa and saw her raise her free left hand, using her loop-grip latex fingers to nudge back the hood, revealing a face identical to her original — except it showed no expression and never blinked.

The three militiamen immediately relaxed, grounding their spears. One of the more familiar ones spoke first: “Oh! Isa, where have you been? Really haven't seen you in ages — what's that on your face?”

“From Amosas. A fashionable ornament.” Isa's latex face-skin showed no expression whatsoever. She wanted to use her left hand to pull the hood back up, but the loop-gripped hand found this far more difficult than expected. After several awkward passes at it from the outside, her hand fumbled into the hood's interior and dragged it up and over her head. The longer the time her latex gloves and the handles on her face were exposed to her neighbours, the harder Isa's breathing became — she could even see white vapour puffing from the seam of her own mouth-onahole through the collar's camera.

“Heh… the place where Alice is studying actually has this kind of weird thing as a fashion? Are your weird gloves from there too? Your whole getup honestly looks kind of like a… ahem… like from the red-light district…” This one — Roland, she thought his name was — leered and leaned close to Isa's latex face, seeming moments away from firing exactly the direct question that would demolish Isa's already paper-thin psychological defences.

Isa's knees were slowly pressing together.

Whether fortunate or unfortunate, a second militiaman cut in: “Alright, alright, chat any time. Isa, did you come back because you heard about the situation?”

“I know. I returned because of the event you mentioned.”

She wasn't back to be a flesh-toy, and grabbing the nearest off-ramp to escape was clearly the right move. Both Isa and Alice knew this clearly — but Isa's word-bank-assembled sentence was genuinely bizarre in phrasing and word order, and if that became the straw that broke the militiamen's willingness to let things go and made them decide to investigate further—

Imagining the scene of her and Isa's depraved bodies displayed directly to three people from home, and the chain of consequences that would follow, Alice's arousal fluid was already flowing, and she could see the same liquid sparkling as it slowly trickled down the inside of Isa's knees.

“Oh, you already know? Then get going!”

The most good-natured of the militiamen clapped Isa on the shoulder, yanked the other two before they could say more, and walked past her to continue their patrol.

Isa gave a stiff nod and set off with weakened knees toward the forest. Behind her, the militiamen's lascivious commentary about her enormous breasts and the “ornament” on her face didn't carry far, but it flowed with perfect accuracy into her mind via the sensitive collar's pickup, and simply following their train of thought — imagining herself being handled by those men, gently or roughly — nearly brought Isa to climax on the spot.

Honestly, compared to the safe entertainment at the base, being in front of real males really is something entirely different.

“Alice, complete the final preparations, yes?”

The Isa with her mouth-onahole fully plugged assembled words from the pre-set vocabulary in her collar and played them, trembling knees coming to a halt beneath a tree in the forest's depth.

They were still going to have to check in with Uncle Aidan, of course, and neither of them planned to rely solely on this highly-penetrable latex mask and clothing to get through it. The solution was on the case carrying Alice — specifically, on Alice's text-projection apparatus.

“Naturally, I've got it down. I'm a genius, after all.”

Alice's projected text materialized in front of the camera on Isa's collar pendant, and the font had transformed during their journey from the flat, plain block letters of their departure into elegant three-dimensional stylized script. During the four hours of travel, Alice had grown comfortable simultaneously reading all directions from the box's cameras, and had become fluent in projecting solid-looking objects.

A pink flower bloomed in front of Isa — and then all the telltale features that made her look less like a village girl and more like a latex doll vanished. What stood there was just Isa, in the cloak she'd worn to gather herbs, wearing simple everyday clothes, carrying an evidently expensive case. Exactly as she'd looked when she set out ten days ago. Anyone talking to her would only notice, on close inspection of her fingers, that the projected human hands overlaid on the latex ones had no fingerprints — after all, projection did take mental effort, and even Alice at her most genius couldn't make it that precise.

“Full disguise active. From here on, no sudden large movements, and don't let the projectors on my case get suddenly shaken and disrupted~”

After projecting the warning in text, Alice copied Isa's current appearance and projected it in front of her. Seeing the reassuring disguise, Isa exhaled with some relief.

The fine projection was a significant cognitive load for Alice — she'd probably manage five minutes at most — and so, consistent with the plan worked out in the base beforehand, Isa walked quickly toward Uncle Aidan's farm. Once they'd checked in quickly and left the village on the prepared cover story, the two of them could settle back down again and think through the future at leisure, comforting and despoiling each other.

With the base's equipment and resources, mindlessly drifting through the rest of their lives was an option, or — using their hometown of Tassoro as a foothold, gradually bringing these dormant ancient technologies back to life and letting more people enjoy their benefits and comforts was another appealing possibility.

After passing back inside Tassoro's wooden palisade, the pedestrian traffic increased. Text floating in midair would be too conspicuous — though when Alice wanted to say something to Isa, she could project miniature text in the shadow under Isa's chin where the collar camera faced. Isa, however, couldn't mutter to empty air in a strange tone, so she could only receive Alice's sentimental commentary on their hometown.

Like this, Isa turned over her thoughts about the future and the present, slowly raising her projection-overlaid arm to wave back at the greetings of townspeople she recognized. Rounding the familiar old locust tree, Uncle Aidan's farm came into view just ahead.

Only the farm gate bore a conspicuous “Temporarily Closed” wooden sign. Associating it with what the militiamen had mentioned — “the situation” — Isa felt a knot of unease form. Had Uncle's long-separated wife come back to cause trouble again? Or…

The worse possibility. After seeing Isa — who had been overdue for a week and therefore effectively missing — the farm's workers wore expressions of relief, but also carried obvious worry: “Isa, you didn't happen to cross paths with the master on the road?”

“I did not meet with him.”

Alice was controlling the facial projection to show a surprised expression, but neither of them could do anything about the flat affect of the synthesized voice.

“The master set out for the city a week ago to negotiate a business deal. Since his route overlapped with yours, we all assumed he'd taken you to the city with him, and he should have been back three days ago, but… sigh…”

The most senior farmhand, Cliff, led her into the main house. Rough fingers retrieved an envelope from a drawer — no information on the envelope at all.

“Arrived this morning. I had someone help me read it. The bastards who wrote this have kidnapped the master. Damn, if it's true, this is serious trouble. Isa, you can read, so read it yourself…”

His expression suggested some displeasure at Isa's excessively calm tone. His worried gaze, notably, hadn't travelled to Isa's enormous breasts in the usual way since she'd walked in.

What? Uncle, how could he—?!

Isa's chest constricted. Cold fear crawled from her tailbone upward to fill her entire body. She instinctively reached out one loop-grip latex hand to take out the letter, and only then remembered that her fingers were completely immobile inside the latex.

“You open it.” Isa kept breathing, making the request.

Cliff slapped the table and stood: “Isa! I don't know what you experienced out there this past week, but however lecherous the master is, he's the one who raised you and paid for your education! He's been kidnapped, and you're using this leisurely calm tone of voice!”

Isa was inwardly more panicked than he was — Uncle had been like a father to her since she lost both parents in childhood — but these bodily restrictions made it impossible to show even a sliver of feeling.

“I have my method. Quiet.”

A piece of cool authority borrowed from the ancient novels in the base's data library found unexpected application. Cliff's lips moved, then he slowly sat back down.

But what then? They couldn't exactly confess her hands had become what they were now, just to look at the letter. If she admitted that, old Cliff would start asking questions, and learn that at the moment his respected master was being held for ransom, the sole heir of the farm had been busy modifying herself into a shameless whore-doll.

Setting aside whether she wanted people to know that — if Cliff found out about this, he would probably have a brain haemorrhage on the spot from sheer indignation.

Isa placed her non-grasping hand lightly on the envelope, slid it along the table surface to the edge, and used a forward press of her enormous breasts to sandwich the envelope between her hand and chest. Alice's projection cooperated, making this peculiar motion look like Isa simply picking the envelope up with her hand.

The unsatisfied breast-onaholes that had been corked throughout the journey were compressed, and ill-timed pleasure flooded Isa's head, leaving her momentarily dizzy. Isa slowly stood, nodded to the loyal farmhand, and carrying the cased Alice, turned and walked out of the farm.

Just figuring out how to open this envelope with a mouth that couldn't bite and fingers that couldn't move had already become an obstacle. Dragging these bodies, how were she and Alice going to rescue Uncle Aidan?

III. The First Great Obstacle Proves to Be the Most Mundane

Isa walked through Tassoro's lanes with heavy steps. The uncle she regarded as a father had been kidnapped. But her own body had been modified into a sex doll — not a single finger could move freely — and Alice didn't even have limbs.

Right now, Isa couldn't even think of a way to open the ransom letter. She could only flee-walk away from home. And the only place she could go was Alice's house. Even with the projection's cover, it was only a matter of time before someone noticed the abnormalities in her body. If discovered, the lightest outcome was the whole village sneering at her for “playing whore while her uncle was kidnapped” — in the worst case, she'd be seized on the spot and made a sex slave.

Isa's ballet-heeled feet, disguised as ordinary boots, stopped before Alice's town house. She tipped her collar camera upward to look at the residence. In theory, the house had been standing empty the whole time Alice had been “at school”. Apparently, some local troublemakers had tried to break in and steal things, but couldn't even find where the door lock was.

“Alice, I need to enter the interior of the house. We need to discuss the next plan.”

Isa couldn't find the door lock either — the handle wouldn't budge, no matter how she pushed, pulled, or pressed it. Even with anxiety burning through her, she could only string together sentences from the collar's vocabulary in calm, syntactically-odd speech.

Alice quickly responded with projected text: “Near the ground, there's a recess shaped to fit my head. Put me in it.”

Isa's head, fixed by the neck brace so it could barely turn, gave a small nod. She bent down. Responding to Isa's intent, the handle of the large case carrying Alice's residual body naturally parted open and slid free of Isa's loop-gripped hands. Her loop-grip fingers tapped a sequence on several hidden sensors on the case's apparently-smooth exterior, and the case opened with a wet, sucking sound.

The source of that wet sound was, naturally, the completely immobilized Alice inside. As the lid opened, the fake cocks fixed to this half of the case were pulled from her circular mouth-onahole and breast-onaholes. Fluids and milk accumulated during the journey clung to the emerging cocks, and kept flowing from the newly emptying onaholes.

Alice's limbless torso — without even a trace of arms or legs remaining — twisted left and right, working itself free from the form-fitting cavity of the case's interior, while the honey-scent sweat gathered during the journey seeped from the widening gaps.

Alice pressed her head downward and arched her waist, trying to use her plugged lower body as a pivot to lift her upper half. The projection, now slightly distorted by the open case, flickered in front of Isa: “Don't just stand there — pull me out already—”

Isa surfaced from the mesmerizing sight of her master-and-best-friend's allure. One moment she had been entirely focused on how to rescue Uncle Aidan, but the instant she saw Alice's body, her mind had scattered. She gathered herself, bent deeply with the corset's balance assist, let both loop-grip hands close around the straight grip handles on the sides of Alice's oval helmet — the same handles as on the case itself — and hauled, driving from the waist and arms, pulling her out of the box.

Incidentally, Alice's helmet had previously had carrying-handle-style grips on both sides to match the case. Before leaving, Alice had voluntarily switched to a different style. Looking now at the decorative panel Alice had indicated — it had a recess exactly the size of Alice's head, flanks with slots perfectly fitted to the handles on her face, and a deeper cavity at the position corresponding to the mouth-onahole — Isa understood why Alice had swapped helmet styles before departure. She had foreseen the need to enter this door and fitted herself with the style that could open it.

Extracting Alice was a genuine feat of strength. Both her lower passages had been expanded to their absolute limit, and two fake cocks the thickness of a normal human's forearm came out of her body centimetre by centimetre, while the urinary catheter grew taut with the pull. Isa gripped the handles on Alice's head with both hands and leaned her whole body backward. Alice twisted violently. The two of them struggled for nearly a minute before they heard a wet pop.

Only then did Isa notice: the fake cocks going into Alice's pussy and rear this time had glans shaped not in the usual realistic style, but with a series of long, firm, rounded barbs. And the balloon inside the catheter, forcibly extracted, had expanded Alice's urethra open as it came out.

“Sss… huu… ♡”

White vapour puffed simultaneously from Alice's circular mouth-onahole and the breathing aperture at her upper chest, and the limbless torso twisted and writhed, producing gasping sounds. After a generous amount of Alice's fluids and urine had been doused across the interior of the case, the things that had been filling her body began to deflate and soften.

Now was absolutely not the time to dwell on Alice's debauched state — the projection apparatus connected to Alice via the fake cocks and the neural link in the case, and Alice leaving the case meant all projection cover was gone. Isa was now standing there in a peculiar oversized coat with handles on her face, and Alice's limbless masturbation-sleeve form was entirely exposed.

Alice's house wasn't in the centre of the village, but there would still be pedestrians. If anyone glanced into the yard and saw them—

Isa didn't let herself finish the thought. She clutched the still-orgasm-trembling Alice to her, pressed Alice's head toward the low recess Alice had indicated beside the door.

Click. Lock-springs on either side of the recess snapped out and locked onto the handles on Alice's helmet. Then Isa heard the faintest moaning sound from Alice's voiceless throat — a sound Isa knew well. It was the sound Alice made during oral service.

Good God, this door — of course — had to be opened like this. Isa quickly released Alice's residual body, letting her rest with her abdomen on the ground supporting herself. Isa straightened up, tidied the long robe, and watched the road beyond the garden fence with careful attention, ready at any moment to block a possible passerby's view of Alice.

Open, open quickly. Forget needing to rush and rescue Uncle Aidan, even if there were nothing urgent at all, Isa absolutely did not want the neighbours to know she'd become like this.

The things one fears most tend to be the things that happen.

And so Isa saw a familiar figure approaching on the road in front of Alice's property. And then, before the figure drew close enough to make out its face, Isa went rigid — loop-grip hands pressed together before her — praying it was a stranger in a coincidentally identical hat.

And then Uncle Picel's voice — Alice's reliable but strait-laced guardian — ended that prayer: “Is that Isa? Back from gathering herbs, are you? Have you heard about Aidan already?”

The fantasy ended. Iron reality presented itself. This was Uncle Picel. Judging by the garden-tool bucket in his left hand, he had come to tend the yard for Alice while she was away at school.

What, what, what, WHAT do I do?! Alice was right behind her actively engaging with the door lock, and abandoning her to run was never an option. But Uncle Picel wasn't a passerby who could be easily talked past. Even if she concealed Alice under the robe hem, the handles on her own face and her expressionless features would invite too many questions.

Answer before he gets suspicious! Isa quickly assembled and played her intended sentence: “I already know.”

“That's not — Isa, what kind of attitude is that! Aidan raised you like his own child, he's in danger right now, and you're saying that in this tone!”

Of course. Isa rolled her eyes inside the latex mask where they hadn't seen daylight in quite some time now. After the constant lubricating fog of depravity at the base, her mind scattered badly in exactly these urgent moments. Even though she was genuinely frightened, the only thoughts in her head were images of the contempt and scolding she'd face if the truth came out, and what life would look like after — not a single idea for breaking the situation.

Picel's expression tightened, and he stepped quickly forward, hand reaching to pinch Isa's face — but drawing close, even with his poor eyesight, he spotted the handles extending across Isa's cheeks. The old man's hand hesitated, then reached out and touched one — found it fixed immovably to her face.

“Isa, what is this thing on your face?”

The faint sound of Alice's engagement with the door lock's oral mechanism drifted from behind. Isa shifted her heeled feet a step or two sideways to block Picel's sight line. How to answer? That it was fashionable in Amosas where Alice was studying? Uncle Picel ran a magic goods shop — he could puncture that lie instantly.

In the time she spent hesitating, his hand had moved to Isa's face. Latex material, however perfect in appearance, couldn't survive the test of touch.

Picel's expression hardened. His left hand released the tool bucket and reached inside his coat, producing a dagger glowing with arcane light. He stepped in close, pressed the blade to Isa's throat — the whole sequence taking just over a second.

“You're not Isa. Who are you? What have you done to her?”

The old man's eyes blazed. His right hand seized Isa's latex mask and began yanking it downward. Isa had been constructing escape-talk one second ago, and the next a blade was pressed to the camera on her collar. Her poor brain simply couldn't keep up with the change. Isa stood there like a statue as the mask was pulled off.

And Picel: he had assumed the handles on this person's face were fixed to the mask, but watched as the mask deformed and pulled out of shape while the handles remained fixed to the face. He had assumed pulling off the mask would reveal a malicious, scheming face — instead he saw a round, glossy, black head. He had assumed at minimum this was a person — but what he pulled from the nose-and-mouth position was a long, soft, flexible tube, thick as a certain body part. And the face left behind had no brows, eyes, or ears. The nose-and-mouth area, now departed from its occupying tube, split open from the centre — a vivid red slit within the glossy black surround, shaped exactly like a woman's vulva, and from it dripped a fluid with an intimate, obscene smell.

“You… what even are you…”

Even as a well-travelled proprietor of a magic goods shop, the sight of the lewd aberration before him left Picel somewhat rattled. He maintained the dagger-at-throat position, right hand gripping the pulled-misshapen mask, anxious sweat running from beneath the brim of his hat through his thinning hair.

Only at this moment did Isa surface from the shock and her legs began to properly tremble — but in the emergency, her mind began to accelerate: “Uncle, it's really me, Isa! The dye I knocked over when I was eleven was rose-magenta, from Talia Province! Mine and Alice's secret childhood base was behind the storage barn on the farm! You confiscated our set of Blue-Boot Knight novels!”

With the cock pulled from her mouth-onahole, Isa's collar speaker could function at full capacity. Even with normal voice, normal inflection, normal phrasing, and details only an insider would know — even all of that matching up — the sight of this strange, obscene face was simply something Picel could not accept.

The old man, forgetting all dignity, muttered like someone who had never faced life or death: “That's impossible… I must be dreaming…”

Isa — that healthy, lively girl — had turned into this… this… thing?!

Looking at the latex doll with its vulva for a face, Picel felt his skull pounding in waves.

IV. Once You Open the Lid on a Lie, It Never Closes Again

Squelch. Squelch.

Alice's quiet oral engagement with the cock-lock door mechanism continued in the background, the subtle sounds nearly swallowed by the old man's deep, steadying breaths before her.

Through the pendant's “eye”, Isa saw her uncle's look of speechless shock — his normally kind face now deeply furrowed, his colour having risen to a congested purple-red from the unacceptable reality presented to him.

Whatever happens, damage control starts now.

“Ah, I'm Isa, but actually this is a remote-controlled magic substitute doll! The face looks like this as a cost-cutting measure! Because Alice's side has funding, but it's still not super abundant!”

Isa waved her loop-grip hands in frantic gestures, sweat beading and passing through her latex skin from her forehead.

Picel's laboured breathing slowly steadied as he accepted this explanation: “Huu, huu… even for cost-cutting, you don't have to use the leftover material from pleasure houses for a substitute doll! Alice's last letter said the professor there thinks very highly of her — is it because she can recycle this kind of scrap material?”

Over the next several minutes, Picel pressed his chest and slowly recovered his breath, mollified by Isa's continuous nodding. “—So I had the substitute doll come back to get something. I've heard about Uncle Aidan's situation too. Alice is currently working her connections over there…”

Isa felt as though she'd spent half a lifetime's worth of lies in those few minutes. Perhaps the shock had left Picel's usually sharp mind scattered — he didn't raise a single objection.

“I roughly understand. Sigh… I never thought the young people today wouldn't mind having their substitute dolls made in such a… disreputable shape. Truly, the world going to ruin…”

Isa felt her face burning, if a face sealed in latex could be said to burn. Being seen by a stranger was one thing. Being told with a tone of disappointment by a family member that one was base and depraved — the mix of deflation, and the strange and unwanted exhilaration of “well since he knows, I don't have to hide any more,” was enough to make her head ring.

The fact that she was a licentious, wicked thing had been found out by a family member. From now on, no more hiding. No, wait — for the moment this was only “the substitute doll is obscene,” and in Uncle Picel's understanding her actual body was still normal.

Next, quickly get rid of Uncle and get inside with Alice to discuss—

Click.

Behind her, hidden by Isa's body, came a small but distinct sound of a mechanism engaging. Alice's front door stirred and slowly swung open.

It was Alice. Cut off from sight and hearing after leaving the case, she had had no way to know Uncle Picel had shown up. Having successfully opened the door lock through determined oral effort, she had now done so.

“What's that?” Picel stepped around Isa's side, frowning at the latex human-torso lying on the ground, lower passages fully agape, a continuous stream of fluid gushing out.

“That is—” She couldn't say, it was Alice's substitute doll. Uncle Picel had nearly lost consciousness, learning that she was a wicked thing. If he discovered Alice was even worse than her — “—a magical core automaton that Alice asked me to bring back for configuration experiments with the old invention at home.”

“What kind of invention requires pairing with something this indecent?” Picel immediately followed up.

“Ah, well, that is… Alice mentioned it before…” Isa cast desperately back through her memory, and Alice had genuinely mentioned it once: “The latex mechanical throne.”

One lie, and a thousand lies to cover it. The moment the name left Isa's mouth, she realized that invention was purely and entirely sexual in both appearance and function. If it was entirely Alice's own creation, she had just provided evidence — directly in front of a man who was practically Alice's father — that Alice was irreparably depraved.

“It's because Alice, she, invented it… to accommodate my tastes…”

Her own reputation would have to be sacrificed here. Picel's gaze raked over Isa, and Isa felt as if both sides of her face behind the handles were on fire.

“You, you… sigh! Fine. Let me see what Alice made for you.”

Uncle Picel walked forward, grabbed the horizontal carry-handle fixed to Alice's lower back, and carried her inside.

“I've been over here to clean occasionally and never noticed — the arcane lock on the door actually has a mechanism like this… Isa, just how many things are the two of you keeping from me?”

Watching her uncle go inside, Isa had no choice but to bend down, slide the still-sealed ransom letter into the open case, close and relatch it, pick it up by the specialized handle, and follow him in with what she hoped passed for a breezy laugh. “Ahaha… well, we're grown up now…”

Uncle Picel placed Alice's latex human-torso on the table, then frowned and ran a finger across her moist mouth-onahole — still wet from the deep-throat engagement with the door lock — and scraped off a sample to smell, then waved his hand in distaste. “What on earth is the structure of this thing, it even reproduces the taste of saliva accurately? With this level of technology, what wouldn't be better to make?”

“You're not wrong…” Even without the ballet heels, Isa was considerably taller than Uncle Picel. Normally, she'd at least bow her head to receive this experienced elder's guidance — let alone now, with her own perverse nature exposed and his face full of solemn, suffering disapproval.

On the table, with the helmet's sensors all switched off, the completely blind, deaf, and speechless latex torso that became all of these things the moment she left the specialized case had no idea whatsoever what was happening. In her world, all she knew was that after twisting her waist and contracting her throat to get the door open, instead of being put back in the case, she had been picked up by the handle at her waist and placed on a slightly cool flat surface. And that a large pair of hands — hands whose five fingers moved freely, hands that therefore could not possibly belong to Isa — were now roaming over her body.

Alice produced hissing sounds from her severed-vocal-cord throat and twisted her waist urgently, running through scenarios: perhaps Isa had determined Uncle Aidan's situation wasn't so pressing after all and was thinking of taking them both to the pleasure district; perhaps they'd been discovered by villagers and Isa had decided not to fight it and was having fun with a real man; or perhaps the kidnappers and Isa had crossed paths, and Alice — a total dead-weight without limbs — had been casually handed off to a bystander, who was now getting aroused at the sight of Alice's latex onaholes.

Alice in her private world enjoyed the helplessness her latex doll body brought her, sinking into the fantasies and rolling her hips, her hourglass-then-swelling residual body squirming like a worm, milk, and arousal fluid flowing uncontrollably.

She never could have imagined that between herself and the uncle who was like a father to her, there was only a layer of opaque latex and two perfectly soundproofing ear-canal plugs. Her depraved toy body, her aroused and helpless state — he was seeing every bit of it in full.

“Come on then. Let me see that latex mechanical throne. Let me see what trouble the two of you have been getting into.”

Picel's face was flooded red with disappointment and outrage at the younger generation. Every time his eyes landed on the indecent design of the centrepiece of the substitute doll's face, he needed another moment to steady himself.

Damn it all. These children he'd watched grow up — when had they become like this? He knew his old friend Aidan had never been exactly respectable, but what kind of upbringing would raise a child this, this… this obscenely depraved!

The substitute doll with its intimate orifice for a face picked up the lewd object, and its bizarre ballet-extreme heels pattered across the floor of Alice's home. It moved through the house with practiced ease and opened a secret door hidden behind the wardrobe in Alice's room — one Picel had never known existed. This further eliminated any remaining possibility that the doll was controlled by a stranger.

Wait. Was it possible… that the person controlling it on the other end was… Alice herself?

The old man felt a chill creep up his spine. If Alice had made something paired with this lewd object for Isa, the probability that Alice herself had the same kind of preferences was quite…

He kneaded his nose-bridge firmly, halting the thought before it went further. He pushed through the clothes in Alice's wardrobe and stepped into this unexplored space.

Alice had mentioned this place in passing during conversations at the base, and had even told Isa exactly which sequence to open the wardrobe drawers to unlock it. “If we ever go back, you absolutely have to try the latex mechanical throne in there — it can't compare to the base's equipment, but I built it all myself, and it works quite well!”

Isa tilted her chin up slightly to get a better camera angle. She took in this so-called secret room — every item inside was within the range of what she had predicted, but every item's existence was one more weight on the back of the man behind her, silently breaking down and questioning himself.

This secret room hadn't been opened since Alice's “enrolment” — a layer of dust had settled — but it was all still running. When they stepped inside, the magical luminescence runes on the ceiling activated automatically, revealing the shapes of the dust-covered objects.

Those latex garments, the stiletto boots, the fake phalluses of various sizes, the removable enormous-breast and super-breast prostheses, the internal panties with three gel rods aligned to the lower three passages—

Every single object attested to how depraved the room's owner was, how insatiably hungry.

And of course — this was the inside of a secret room. How could anything be hidden further? Isa clutched Alice tighter. She had truly, step by step, made every wrong choice… she should have forced a subject change. Or from the very beginning, she should have knocked him unconscious.

“Don't tell me… all of these… implements… were things you had Alice make for you.”

Picel heard his own voice, and the voice sounded utterly exhausted. The crushing disappointment in the girl who was like a daughter, combined with a guilt named “I should have raised her better” — it shrank him by a full inch. Without him noticing, Alice had built this entire dark and dissolute nest. Why hadn't he noticed?

And what was there left for Isa to say?

“The one at the far end of the open space — that must be the chair, yes? Come on. Show me.”

The old man waved a hand, his deep internal exhaustion leaving him careless of his clean trousers as he simply sat directly on the floor in the more open section of the room. He'd quit smoking over twenty years ago, but his hand reached automatically for a pipe and lighter that weren't there.

“Of course, of course…”

Isa felt her uncle's cutting gaze. What little self-respect she had left — a fraction of its original amount — was rapidly consumed by that look of disappointment and disdain. The strange exhilaration and pleasure pushed further at her reason. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. How could it be like this? She should be sorrowful. She should be prostrate in shame for being so humiliatingly exposed. Why, why, why was her pussy soaking hot and prickling under the loose robe, in this very gaze?

Isa wanted to close her eyes and escape from this situation that felt like walking on thin ice. But her eyes beneath the latex did nothing when she moved them. The collar's camera and microphone simply fed everything real and unfiltered into her mind.

She looked at Alice in her arms, then looked at Uncle Picel sitting on the floor with his brow deeply furrowed, and took slow, heavy steps to place Alice on what was called the latex mechanical throne. The chair's armrests and base had obviously been custom-made for the pre-modification Alice — Alice's current enormous rear was far too wide for the arm-rest gap. Isa could only press her own chest against Alice and use both loop-grip hands together, forcing the connecting latex skin at either side of Alice's residual hips outward, then wedging the buttock flesh in bit by bit. The surfaces of Alice's perfect latex skin and the slightly-rougher latex of the chair produced an ongoing, tooth-aching squeak of friction as Alice descended.

Alice's residual body twisted continuously, milk flowing from the open breast-onaholes. After all those days of debauched life together, Isa could read — without any communication needed — exactly what Alice was anticipating and enjoying right now.

But she ought to know the truth.

At the last moment before Alice's massive rear was fully seated in the latex throne, Isa's loop-grip hand brushed the switch in the hollow below Alice's helmet, restoring sight and hearing to her.

Simultaneously, the rough mechanical apparatus at the back of the throne pressed a pair of black bowl-shapes against Alice's enormous breasts. These bowls — which should have encompassed an entire breast — could only cover a portion of the current Alice's chest, squeezing the rest of the flesh outward into concave deformations.

Alice squirmed with excitement inside her restraints, her forehead lamp glowing desire-laden yellow. She raised her head toward Isa's collar camera.

“So, please watch,” Isa said softly.

Isa exhaled slowly, stepped to the side. Uncle Picel — sitting on the floor nearby, brow tightly furrowed — filled Alice's field of view.

“Hmph.” Uncle expressed a syllable of resentment and disappointment.

Alice's hip-and-breast motion stopped with that sound.

One second later, her headlamp turned the red of refusal and began flashing rapidly.

And that was the most resistance this residual body of hers was capable of.

V. This Is Not Good for Anyone's Heart

In Alice's original plan, leaving the case to open the door was supposed to be the most thrilling part.

Back then, the “vivid red lips” she had used to open that door were, in fact, a hollow long latex gag-plug that filled the entire oral cavity. The work of opening the door through thick latex with limbs still intact had been thrilling enough.

Now, her mouth had permanently lost all function as a “mouth” — eating, breathing, and speaking all impossible. The permanently-fixed circular onahole was simply the face of the oral area. The toothless gum-ridges and atrophied, vestigial tongue were coated in thick, pleasure-nerve-wired sensitive bio-latex. The entire oral cavity existed purely to service whatever rod was inserted into it — even being plugged idly created a little pleasure from the faint friction. Presumably it would get along considerably better with the lock-mechanism cock.

The moment the mechanism's fixings gripped her cheeks, the mechanism cock had driven into Alice's mouth without ceremony. Her younger self hadn't configured this mechanism to be particularly thick, but what did it matter? The onahole's media-flesh squeezed in from every side around the gel rod. Without limbs to brace the body, Alice used her wide-open lower passages as a fulcrum and wriggled her residual body energetically, driving the faint nod of her head.

Of course, if any passerby discovered her residual body in this state, she'd almost certainly only end up being carried off — so Alice could only trust that Isa could handle any potential incident. Trust.

Alice twisted her hips violently. The mechanical scoring inside the lock's cock must have been rising quickly under the omnidirectional squeezing and rhythm. If anyone saw her working hard like this, they'd definitely get aroused too ♡.

She trembled, milk draining from the open breast-onaholes, the pussy that had been grinding against the ground already burning and prickling, sweet sweat passing through the latex skin and running down.

Finally, the lock-cock gave a great shudder and withdrew. The fixing clamps on her cheeks released. Alice went limp with exhausted anticipation, waiting for the case's cock to be reinserted.

But she was not picked up by her arms or lifted by the straight-grip handle — the force lifting her came from the horizontal carry-handle at her lower back. A handle that Isa's loop-grip hands could not hold.

Without sight or hearing to understand the situation, without limbs to resist the grip on her back-handle, Alice's body — just a bundle of enticing soft flesh — could only be helped however whoever held her chose. Her abdomen made contact with a slightly cool surface. Was that a table? How many people were watching right now?

Alice's residual body trembled. Arousal fluid and milk flowed from all the vivid-red gaping onaholes. Had Isa found a lead on Uncle Aidan and decided a trip to the pleasure district wouldn't hurt? Had something happened and Isa left, and a stranger had found her alone, and she was about to be used by someone she'd never met? In the worst possible scenario, both she and Isa had been captured, and were about to be violated and humiliated as sex slaves.

Honestly, other than it meaning they couldn't rescue Uncle Aidan, that situation wouldn't be so bad — no no, rescuing Uncle Aidan was the important thing.

So when Alice's sight was restored, and she saw Isa standing right in front of her, safe and sound, she felt, in truth, a slight easing of tension. Everything was still within control. All she had to do now was enjoy whatever pleasure Isa was about to give her.

“So, please watch.”

Isa moved aside, and in the next instant Alice saw the face she knew best in all the world — that man who was like a father to her — looking at her with a sunken, defeated expression.

She heard Uncle Picel force out a single dismissive sound from his nasal passage. “Hmph.”

In that instant, Alice felt again the particular terror named “my life is over.” He'd seen her. He'd seen this obscene body. The fact that she was an irredeemable pervert had been discovered by her only remaining family member. Every hip-roll and breast-shimmy she'd done as he carried her in, every dilation and secretion of her breast-onaholes and onaholes, every frantic, impatient display of sex-seeking — he'd seen it all.

That's not right. It's not like this. Uncle, please let me explain—

Alice craned her neck, throat without vocal cords, mouth without tongue or lips, pushing out desperate hissing sounds.

The latex mechanical throne beneath Alice faithfully executed its pre-set program. Latex clasps grew from the armrests, back, and legs — two pairs aimed at ankle and wrist positions struck empty air, while the waist clamp and the restraints aligned to the grip handles on her body locked around her, immobilizing the already-limbless Alice who had no way to leave regardless. The Alice who had still been able to twist her hips and turn her neck was now as if sunk into a wall of soft latex — not even a centimetre of meaningful movement left.

Ah, next would be the chest section. Alice numbly recalled the settings she'd programmed into this machine. Her uncle's resentful gaze, that look of disappointment — it had a burning quality far stronger than any late-night solo exposure she'd managed before. It was scorching her whole body. She needed to redirect her attention from this unbearable guilt somehow — or the last vestige of self-respect she had would be vaporized entirely. After that, after that—

The throne's back extended mechanical arms and pressed a pair of latex cups — cups sized for the Alice who still had a human body — against her chest. The cups that had once been large, pressed against this depraved body's enormous breasts, covered only the nipple and areola region, like an extremely open swimsuit top. Worse: to anchor them deeply, the mechanical arms forced the cups inward, deforming Alice's breasts into concave compression, the spillover flesh piling against the armrests on either side and nearly obscuring her mouth-onahole under the pressed-together mass.

The mechanical claws that should have gripped nipple rings now hooked onto the edges of the breast-onaholes. The textured hemisphere that should have been pressed against the nipple to stimulate it had become too small for the current Alice and simply sank inside the onahole, only occasionally grazing the inner walls at its rim. The continuously overflowing milk was agitated by this vibrating sphere into bubbling, then overflowed from the cup's edges and ran down. Alice gasped through her airway, and the stimulation that, for normal positioning, would only have been teasing, became unbearably intense under her uncle's gaze.

He's seeing all of it. He's seeing how this shameful enormous chest is being deformed. How the milk overflows from the compressed hollows.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Alice is this worthless of a slut. A body this precious has been turned into a latex doll like this.

The sound of stone-on-stone penetrated Alice's hazy, ashamed consciousness. She worked to recall what function was next — but the more she tried, the more the guilt refused to leave. Until several thick mechanical arms extended from the throne's base, gripped the back and legs, and extended the whole “throne” together with Alice — like a cuckoo clock bird emerging from its door — out through the opened wall of the second floor.

“Truly disgraceful…” Uncle Picel's heavy sigh curled through the air and passed into the receiver on Alice's helmet, scorching that hourglass-then-swelling residual body. She panted violently, squirming hips and chest against the throne's restraints — entirely useless. As a latex doll, what could she do but quietly receive all of this?

Tassoro Town in the afternoon afternoon light unfolded in Alice's helmet cameras — and displayed her to everyone's view. Her own home's front garden didn't face the main street, but pedestrians were sparse, not absent. A group of boys playing and laughing passed through the road in front of Alice's property. One of them stopped, turned, and looked in Alice's direction.

If she'd been thinking clearly, she'd have remembered the latex mechanical throne came with a shadow-concealment enchantment — ordinary passersby looking from outside the garden would only see a dark mass extending from the second floor wall.

She was not thinking clearly.

“Sss— ♡”

Even without vocal cords or lips and tongue, the sounds she made were her sounds, and Alice gasped with all she had.

It's over ♡. My life as Alice is over ♡. Now everyone in town knows I'm a promiscuous slut for anyone to use ♡. This depraved and obscene body of mine, shown off to everyone, trembling and hungry, onaholes that attract males ♡. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry—

The playing boys stopped, fingers pointing at Alice, one gaze after another like lightning and divine fire, burning her dignity and reason to ash. A self-destructive, aberrant joy suffused her residual body, and on the strength of the “life is over” despair and shame alone — without any additional physical stimulation — she easily crested to a peak.

But of course, how could there be no additional physical stimulation?

An enormous latex phallus — large even by Alice's thoroughly-expanded standards — rose from the seat of the throne, entered her rear passage through the ring of metal that kept the entry perpetually spread, and pressed in. The tissue of the intestines, modified to be extraordinarily sensitive, clung to the raised protrusions along this phallus, and every centimetre of penetration caused the entire rear passage to clench once in response.

Then, large quantities of viscous fluid sprayed from the top of the latex phallus. These fluids, which would normally function as an aphrodisiac, could only serve as lubrication inside an Alice already depraved enough — her body was already far hotter and more frantic than any aphrodisiac could reach; her arousal was already permanently above her reason.

Alice felt every inch of her residual body with crystalline clarity. The phallus buried deep in her rear was executing its programmed duty, hammering the intestinal passage's inner walls with rough force. Alice's abdomen rose and fell with each impact, the restrained residual body rising and subsiding with it.

Even as shame and terror had taken root in Alice's consciousness, the depravity sourced from her soul's depths nourished the pleasure, climbing along that very shame, clutching tight to the joy buried deepest inside.

“Sss… ♡ huu…”

Look at me, keep looking ♡. This is Alice's true nature! Watch how my belly distends from the phallus inside ♡.

As she had half-expected, the latex throne maintained the rear-passage thrusting and advanced to the next sequence. But it wasn't — as her fogged mind had assumed — a second cock to fill the hungry pussy. With her camera fixed to her forehead unable to rotate, and her face-handles fixing her head, Alice couldn't observe her own lower body at all. She could only feel something lightly tapping her clitoris, again and again.

The unsatisfied doll panted and squirmed in helpless frustration. She hadn't felt a single trace of anger when Isa had betrayed her and displayed her obscene true self to Uncle Picel. But now, at being teased relentlessly with this light, non-committal provocation, Alice felt something like genuine irritation.

This is just confirmation, isn't it — I'm truly beyond saving ♡. So please, bring on the main event, destroy this latex doll properly, violate me completely — please ♡—

If the boys on the street had magic-sight eyes to pierce the shadow-concealment, they would probably see this simultaneously depraved and slightly farcical scene: on the throne extended from the second floor, a mechanical claw was hooking what should have been a clitoral ring, trying to extend the doll-on-the-chair's clitoris outward; while another arm was holding a masturbation-sleeve at the approximate position of what should be an engorged clit, pumping at the air, occasionally grazing the doll's body.

Because Alice — having been modified into a limbless torso — had removed the clitoral ring. This clitoris-onahole training setup simply couldn't function.

The boys had no magic-sight, so they could only see a mass of black haze extending from the beautiful older sister's house who had gone to study abroad, drifting and not dispersing. And so, confused boys pointed at the black haze and what was in it and chattered amongst themselves. What's that smoke? Did something catch fire? Should we tell a grown-up? But there's no smoke smell, just a fishy smell. You go look. No you, you go.

The boys' pointing and commentary on her sex-toy body. The disappointment of the father-figure that she could feel right through the wall behind her. The sensation of enormous breast-cup compression against her breasts. The intermittent, teasing friction at her breast-onaholes and clitoris. All of it mixed together, whipped into a froth by the wet, full, repeated impacts inside the rear passage.

Alice twisted her hips violently — but after passing through the restraints on her residual body, the motion was reduced to a faint contraction of the last remaining abdominal muscles. Beads of sweat passed through the latex skin and ran down the smooth black surface; the enormous breasts were stimulated, milk overflowing from the cup edges; arousal fluid, completely impossible to stop, ran along the smooth latex seat and dripped down. The current Alice was so close to that supreme peak. Just this close, just a little more.

Please, please, throne ♡ — for this one thing, I'll do anything ♡.

Alice made a silent, desperate sound. She already knew exactly what kind of natural-born pleasure-slave she was, so — so — for this one climax, even her life would be worth offering.

A mechanical arm extended from the throne's base, its front end producing the key to that peak — and it was actually a key.

Alice suddenly remembered. The last time she'd sat in this chair in a state of unsatisfied desperation, it had been a key that activated all the restraints on her body, followed by vibration and electrical discharge at every erogenous point, all thrusting and rotation at maximum frequency. She remembered. She recalled. That had been an orgasm like a tsunami — the latex mechanical throne had squeezed and kneaded her still-four-limbed body like a rubber duck in a bathtub, and it was in that moment she had fallen completely in love with the thrill of the latex doll's loss of agency. A death-and-rebirth-level desperate orgasm, a body wrung of its last energy by the toys, every drop of strength in her body offered up to ecstasy. Five continuous minutes — three hundred continuous seconds — of peak climax, like three hundred years, had completely destroyed all her other interests and caused her to tumble into the depravity she wore today.

Then come, I'm willing. No matter how many times, I'm willing ♡. Because I, Alice, was born to be an utterly depraved latex doll ♡.

The faint mechanical-arm sound, and the cold touch of the key against the inner walls of her gaping pussy. In this moment, the once-brilliant girl who had still had a way back, and the degenerate harlot who had now dedicated everything to lust, overlapped. Alice convulsed the last remaining muscles of her residual body, the surging milk and arousal fluid forced past the compression of the cup and seat surface, pushing open a path and spraying into the open afternoon air, raining in an intimate arc across the front garden—

“Ahhh! Something got on me! The smell is so weird!” ”It really is a demon! Run!”

The boys fled from Alice's yard, leaving her suspended on the extended throne from the second floor. The doll's trembling and gasping gradually stilled. The forehead lamp that had been flashing a climax-intense yellow slowly stopped its flickering.

The latex throne terminated its sequence and slowly rotated back inside the wall. Only at this point did Alice realize: she had just crossed the climax threshold on nothing but memory and fantasy alone.

The key — it had to be inserted into the corresponding lock to trigger the subsequent high-frequency electrical discharge and full-speed thrusting. And the lock that was supposed to be inside the pussy, which paired with the key to trigger it — was still standing in the corner of the secret room.

The rear-passage phallus retracted back into the throne. The various restraints released one by one. An enormous emptiness pressed down on Alice's whole body. She understood the reason now, and then shook what had once been her shoulders — now only collarbone and shoulder blade — in a soundless sob. Tears passed through the latex over her eyes, ran inside the helmet, mixed with the sweat on her face, and seeped from the perspiration-gap at the neck.

“I'm sorry! I, I couldn't get him to leave! This is all my fault!”

Uncle Picel was no longer in the room. Isa walked quickly over and opened her latex-wrapped arms to embrace Alice, pulling her residual body from the throne.

There was no one in the world besides Isa who could tell that Alice was crying. Yet even Isa didn't know that the tears of the girl in her arms were not for a social death in front of family — but for a deeply-anticipated climax that had not arrived as promised.

Fantasy-induced climax could discharge some of the pent-up need, but what she had wanted was another transcendent peak that pierced both body and soul, not that — that empty, hollow near-miss. Such a perfectly set-up buildup, at the cost of her dignity and of every expectation Uncle Picel had held for Alice.

The more she thought about it the more aggrieved Alice felt. She cried and twisted her hips, rubbing urgently against her best friend's body.

“I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… Picel-uncle kept asking, my head was in chaos, I had no choice but to do that…”

Isa's voice had tears in it too. Her own tears seeped through the latex exterior and fell into the hollow of Alice's shoulder.

“But at least I held the line! I told him I was your substitute doll, and you were a latex toy Alice made! At least this time, he didn't figure out that you're actually Alice!”

Ah. Then the townspeople should be manageable too. There's still room to work with.

Alice steadied her breathing, slowly calming down.

But someone could not calm down.

“That's what I thought, damn it all! Alice! How could you degrade yourself like this, to this — this state! Do you know how much your parents expected of you! How can you waste yourself like this, I, I should have beaten you properly!”

Uncle Picel. He hadn't left — he'd lied to Isa about leaving and hidden outside. White hair bristling, red-eyed, he bellowed like a wounded lion.

Then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed unconscious on the spot.

VI. Even Having Sunk to This, Business Must Come First

Isa's hands were locked in loop-grips and couldn't do most things. But taking the medicine bottle from Picel's coat pocket and twisting it open, fortunately, was still possible.

After placing the black tablet in Picel's mouth, the old man's breathing steadied quickly, his hands left his chest, and his deeply furrowed face smoothed — but he still didn't wake.

Isa exhaled. Though Uncle Picel had fainted from being unable to accept the fact that Alice was this depraved, it was still her own clumsy handling that had caused the situation to spiral.

“A-anyway, I'll get Uncle to a bed!”

Even without Alice's face to look at for confirmation, Isa didn't have the courage to look in Alice's direction. She sighed, squatted on her ballet heels with the corset's balance assist, tucked her arms under Picel's armpits, and half-dragged, half-carried the somewhat stout man out of the secret room and onto a bed.

Thanks to frequent experience escorting a thoroughly drunk Uncle Aidan, Isa laid him onto Alice's bed with reasonable steadiness. It was not light work — an unconscious person is somehow far heavier than a full sack of cornmeal.

Having confirmed Uncle Picel was in no danger, Isa entered the secret room, closed the soundproofed hidden door, and sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of Alice. She breathed heavily through the mouth-onahole on her face, fine sweat continuously emerging through the latex skin and running down in streams, leaving glistening trails on the smooth surface.

“Anyway… let's get back to the actual business!”

After drying her hand-sweat on the carpet, Isa used her loop-grip hands to carefully clamp the ransom letter sent by Aidan's kidnappers.

Uncle Aidan was still in danger — this was not the time to be flustered. Functionally speaking, even if her own idiotic behaviour had just socially killed Alice in front of her family, the problem now at hand involved the possible life-or-death of her own family member. Sigh. In any case, Alice should have been the one to say these things.

Isa raised her head tentatively and looked. Alice was maintaining the posture she'd been left in when Isa set her down, the oval helmet's forehead lamp flickering yellow, chest heaving dramatically, all onaholes fully agape and dripping below.

Even now, Alice was still climaxing from the completely-social-death in front of a family member. This truth — Isa would never guess it. Would never dare to.

Even in this private space where hands and mouth were both freely available, opening the envelope and unfolding the letter still cost Isa considerable time — she had no functional fingers, the mouth-onahole had no teeth to bite, and she could only place the envelope on the carpet and work it open with friction from her loop-grip hands.

Isa slowly unfolded the letter she had almost accidentally torn. Her restrained hands couldn't comfortably hold it up. Instead, she settled Alice in her lap, head nestled between her breasts, then placed the letter on the ground in front of her.

Unlike the gripping ancient recordings in the base's data library, this ransom letter had apparently been written by hand with the dominant hand — and was so unprofessional as to include a direct reference to “send the money to our base, the abandoned warehouse at the far east end of Prosperity Street, no guards involved.” There was no mention of accompanying teeth or an ear.

“Very amateur… almost certainly impulsive… should we take this directly to the guards as evidence?” Isa turned the Alice in her lap around, watching her headlamp. Alice's reading speed was much faster than her own — if Isa had finished, Alice had certainly finished and had a plan.

Sure enough, the lamp lit up with a refusal-red. The red flickered for a moment, then began alternating yellow-green.

“Ah — Alice-master can't speak right now without the base's broadcast… what do we do…”

The latex torso in her arms twisted and wriggled, the oval helmet repeatedly tapping against Isa's enormous breasts, headlamp still flickering. Isa could only murmur encouragement while thinking of a solution.

Then, suddenly — Isa remembered. In the base's archives there was a method of transmitting information using two different signals combined with pauses. Alice actually had something to say. So what was her plan?

Transmitting an entire plan using only headlamp flickers would be painfully slow. And yes, it was slow — definitely not because Isa had spent her free time in the base watching ancient video recordings and reading novels and hadn't found time to fully learn the ancient alphabet and match it to some kind of code system. Definitely not.

“Just a moment…”

Isa patted Alice's shoulder, stood up, and began looking through the secret room. She found a charcoal pencil and wedged it into the urethra-opening of a realistic dildo (at the sight of the urethra-opening being strained to tearing — Isa felt a phantom ache from the cable-connected prosthetic cock strapped to her outer thigh). She inserted this dildo — upside down — into Alice's mouth-onahole, then pulled a few sheets of blank paper to the floor.

Alice swayed her enormous breasts, collapsed onto the carpet face-down, the impact milking a few spurts from the breast-onaholes. Using the transplanted muscle fibres in her breasts, Alice squirmed and crawled to the paper's edge, then rocked her head slowly to write several lopsided characters:

T H E P R O J E C T I O N B O X . I D I O T .

She was called an idiot.

Alice's breast-onaholes and mouth-onahole were slowly filled again by the case-lid's gel phalluses as the lid clicked shut. Isa exhaled through the mouth-onahole on her face and waited with nervous apprehension for Alice's forthcoming scolding.

A clear projection materialized above the case. The once-four-limbed, slender-figured Alice appeared before Isa, neatly dressed.

She stared hard at Isa. In the upper left of her head, a small-tailed speech bubble appeared in the style of the ancient humans' “comics”, and the projected Alice stamped her foot and “shouted” silently through this dialogue bubble: “IDIOT! DUNCE! BLOCKHEAD! MORON! How am I supposed to live after this?!”

Isa felt her face burn unbearably and could only nod like a chicken pecking grain. If cutting off the hair bundled from the small hole at the back of her latex hood could earn Alice-master's forgiveness, that would be more than welcome.

“Sigh… let's rescue Uncle Aidan first and deal with you afterward.” The projected Alice crossed her arms across her previously-modest chest and sat in a projected chair, pouting.

“I have a plan. Even though Isa, you're an idiot, you're responsible for one part of this plan.”

Alice began detailing the arrangement on a projected chalkboard.

The people who kidnapped Uncle were clearly amateurs doing this for the first time — if Uncle hadn't been seriously hurt, it was better to let them off. But preparations for physical intervention were still necessary, so Isa should take Alice back to the base first and bring weapons and equipment. If it actually came to force, no plan would be needed.

“And if Uncle hasn't been seriously injured and no force is needed?” Isa raised a loop-grip hand and asked through the collar speaker.

“That's simple—” Alice swept the chalkboard clean with a wave and drew, centreboard, her current limbless hourglass-then-swelling latex-masturbation-sleeve form, surrounded by sparkle and heart effects.

“—The base-produced volatile aphrodisiac is something no human can refuse. So Isa, you just drop me at the warehouse door, they'll turn into aroused apes, and you can rescue Uncle in the meantime ♡”

The stylized heart at the end of the sentence transformed the whole projection's atmosphere into something sultry. Facing this absurd plan, Isa couldn't help wondering whether Alice actually had any particular feelings about her social death at all — and whether the earlier anger had simply been concern for Picel's health.

Alice had no interest in reading Isa's expression (what expression could be read on a face consisting solely of a single swollen onahole, really). She continued projecting: “After wringing those men dry, I'll teleport back here. Once you've settled Uncle at the farm, come back and get me too — your limb joints need my periodic authorization to avoid locking up, we can't be separated too long.”

Isa breathed out warm air and nodded.

“Then: back to the base. As for Picel — carrying him would waste too much time, just let him rest in bed.”

Returning to the base in the hidden forest ruin carrying Alice's case took five hours. Assembling the equipment took ten minutes. Setting and calibrating a teleportation anchor point near Tasnor City and teleporting there took less than half a minute.

Isa adjusted her wide hood, pressed the latex head-cover's inserting fixtures deeper into her throat, and tilted her head to maximize the collar camera's field of view as she surveyed the surroundings. With the help of a satellite the base had recently launched, they'd confirmed the route and set the anchor point in an abandoned basement near the target warehouse — but aerial perspective and ground perspective were still quite different. Isa worked to identify which direction matched the route she and Alice had planned. But the genius Alice in the case had no interest in wasting time in this environment, and directly attached a small directional indicator text to the front of Isa's collar camera.

Just rounding one corner and the warehouse came into view — its dilapidated entrance didn't even have a disreputable man standing guard. Isa pressed the ultrasound transceiver on her wrist against the newspaper-pasted window and began scanning the interior:

Ten people total inside. One was bound and on the floor — presumably Uncle Aidan, and the ultrasound data showed no external or internal injuries. The other nine had no armour whatsoever, and only daggers and short curved blades for weapons, with an overall posture and order that looked nothing like trained fighters.

Isa sucked on the latex cock inserted through her facial onahole into her throat, and the collar recited the scan results: “Situation. One. Point. Two.”

“Engage Plan A. Let me out.”

Alice wriggled her residual body in the soft, warm case interior, projecting small characters excitedly in front of Isa's collar camera. Arousal fluid flowed freely at the prospect of what was approaching, continuously absorbed by the internal rods into the waste reservoir.

Through the case's multiple cameras, she saw Isa using knuckle-taps on several catches on the case exterior, her ballet-heeled toes gripping the case's corners on either side. The handle split open automatically and slid into the circle of her loop-grip hands. Isa began to pull, and the elongated vibrators fixed in the case lid began withdrawing from her mouth-onahole and breast-onaholes. Simultaneously, the camera and projector lost connection to Alice, and she reverted to being the latex doll who could not see, could not speak, could do nothing except squirm and flash her helmet lamp.

“Sss… ♡”

Though Alice had cancelled the uterus-teleporter's usage penalty at the base, what Isa didn't know was that Alice had also placed a lock on her own teleporter. For a full four hours from this point in time, Alice's uterine transport device couldn't trigger its activation inquiry — and though if Alice failed to mentally respond at that point, she'd automatically return to base, until then, the teleporter was disabled. Meaning, even if Isa rescued Uncle before Alice was penetrated by these filthy kidnappers, Alice could only be unilaterally violated by the men ♡.

Alice breathed through her permanently-open mouth-onahole, savouring this deep helplessness. She'd finally come to this point. Even after everything reckless and depraved she'd done, becoming this obscene body — strictly speaking, she'd never been violated by an unfamiliar man at random like a true flesh-toy. And soon, as a pure living toy, she would be penetrated by a stranger for the first time ♡.

Even knowing this modified body couldn't be impregnated, Alice felt an unbearable, tingling heat rise through her lower abdomen and spread across the whole body.

What if — what if she somehow ended up pregnant with a stranger's child ♡. What would happen then? Without even arms and legs, she wouldn't be able to hold the born baby, and feeding it would require Isa's help ♡. When the child grew up, whatever they wanted to do to a latex-doll mother, she'd have no way to refuse ♡.

Alice let her headlamp flicker a desire-hazed yellow and sank into the fantasy. She felt Isa's forearm and hands slide beneath her breasts and begin lifting the whole torso upward.

The passage walls — modified, coated in red latex more sensitive than original flesh — clearly registered the shape of the three rods inside the lower body as they withdrew. The small beads of one traced back and forth along the urethra, and the collection ball deep inside the bladder expanded the urethra as it pulled free. The enormous entry plug of the rear passage stretched the passage wall open, while the wet, burning intestinal flesh clung to the deeper clusters of spheres. The large realistic cock in the pussy rubbed outward from the inside, and the womb — pressed back to deepest position — descended along with the cock's departure as full arousal took hold.

Alice squirmed with excitement, the permanently ring-expanded circular pussy and rear onahole expelling bursts of warm vapour and fluid. The milk ran from the non-closing breast-onahole edges along the outline of the enormous breasts and down. Unfortunately, Alice couldn't see this enticing body herself — she could only watch the walls on either side move backward while being held in Isa's arms, until they stopped in front of the warehouse door.

“Operation begins.”

Alice heard Isa softly announce this. Then she was set on the ground before the door, and the sound of knocking reached her.

Here, there was no going back. Alice lay on her back and wriggled her residual body, heart racing. She was about to — about to ♡.

The murmuring inside went immediately quiet after the knock. Isa's ballet heels clicked rapidly away, and the door opened a crack after a moment. “Who's there… huh? Nobody?”

A man's head peeked out the crack, looking left and right — then finally looked down and found Alice on the ground. “This is… what is…”

After preparation at the base, Alice's entire body was coated in a volatile aphrodisiac — strong enough that any human with functional sexuality, simply breathing the air nearby, would be unable to think about anything other than sex. Alice and Isa had, of course, taken the antidote in advance. So all that was needed was for the man to unwittingly breathe for a few seconds at this slightly more than one-meter range—

The man's pupils dilated abnormally, confusion on his face rapidly overwritten by animal lust. Alice hissed through her breathing aperture, her limbless latex body twisting urgently. The burly man's shadow fell over her like a small mountain, and unfamiliar hands closed around her waist.

The teleporter couldn't trigger for nearly four more hours, and any resistance beyond that was inconceivable for the limbless Alice. Before these men, she was only a latex-wrapped sex toy. These men who couldn't even execute a kidnapping properly certainly wouldn't have the intelligence to decode her headlamp signals — they would never realize until the very end that a living person was inside this black latex. There was no possibility they'd treat her as human.

In this moment, Alice felt as if her heart had stopped. Yes — from the instant she was lifted, Alice truly became a latex sex-doll without human rights.

This was what she had wanted. Wasn't it?

VII. All the Trouble Has Finally Been Resolved. It Won't Go Wrong Again. Right?

God, this is suffocating. I need a woman so badly.

Even in what should have been a quiet night, Laim Kolet was inexplicably agitated. He threw down the folding knife in his hand and stood sharply from the table. “Oi, Seven! How long does it take to answer a door?! Standing at the entrance in a daze, you asleep?!”

Looking from the dark interior of the warehouse toward the door, Seven's shadow was silhouetted in the open doorway in the lamplight from outside. Hearing the reprimand, he shuffled his feet to turn around — and the gang members saw that his trousers were around his ankles, both hands cradling something black against his crotch, the man himself panting like a dog, hips repeatedly pumping.

“The hell, Seven, are you—”

The invisible aphrodisiac vapour had been dispersing through the warehouse, growing denser. The bandits' bewilderment and annoyance were quickly suppressed by arousal, and the scolding ready in their minds was burned away by the rising heat. A dazed moment later, what came out of their mouths was no longer what they'd intended: “—what'd you find! Quick, let the brothers take a look!”

Eight thugs crowded toward the door, forgetting the wide-open warehouse entrance, attention pinned absolutely on what was between Seven's hips:

A black-glossy, lewd object — at first glance a limbless humanoid form, but the grotesquely inflated non-human-range breasts and buttocks, combined with the impossibly narrow waist with nowhere to fit a stomach, proved it wasn't a human with severed limbs.

It was continuously squirming. A spot that must be its forehead breathed a warm yellow light. The entire skull was a smooth, firm oval. The grip handles extending from its “cheeks” existed to facilitate use of the round red hole that served as its mouth, and this hole was continuously expelling scorching hot breath. Its lower body was fixed at Seven's crotch, moving with his motion to produce obscene sounds of flesh-on-flesh. “Sweet sweat” continuously emerged from the glossy black surface, wetting the entire body. The pair of melon-sized breasts swayed with it, and the positions where nipples should have been had opened into onaholes, dribbling thick white milk.

If these men had retained any rationality, they would be thinking about what it was, who had left it here, and why. Now, under the volatile aphrodisiac and the overwhelming visual stimulus, the only thing any of them could think was—

Take it.

“Found something good and eating alone! Let me see!”

Laim stepped forward first, seizing the sex-toy's head by the handles on either side — they fit the hand so perfectly and comfortably he was reluctant to let go — and yanked toward himself.

Seven, who was holding the arm-position handles without seeming to register any of this, only kept panting heavily, slamming the thing against his crotch again and again — until a slap landed on his face: “Wha… that was… so good… felt like my soul was being sucked out…”

“Damn, you actually have a soul?” Laim snarled, then gripped the head-handles with both hands and pulled toward himself. Though Seven had released it, the resistance was still unexpectedly large — was the passage flesh clinging and resisting?

The man held his breath and pulled hard, and in the separation the body's waist arched sharply, a gush of fluid pouring out and soaking Seven's trousers. And the cock that had just been inside it was visibly larger than it had been before — like a morning erection, but markedly more so.

It actually has that function? We've found a treasure.

Ignoring the mess Seven had left inside the onahole, Laim grabbed the heavy toy, frantically dropped his own trousers, and thrust in without ceremony.

Laim's gang — only Laim himself would call it that.

One rebellious young nobleman and eight good-for-nothing idiots — petty theft and drinking at their “secret” base was their daily routine. This lazy life should have continued indefinitely, until Laim suddenly realized he was running low on funds. Certain his family could handle whatever he did, and his lackeys equally assured of the same, they had pulled this big job.

Aidan sat on the warehouse's cold floor, sighing silently. He marvelled at the inexplicable carelessness of these petty thieves — letting an outsider hear everything — and also marvelled at having been kidnapped by people like this. Rough rope was cutting into his wrists and ankles. His stomach was painfully empty, and he didn't dare to make too much noise. They hadn't pulled his teeth to mail to the farm — probably not because they didn't dare, but because it simply hadn't occurred to them.

Hopefully, Cliff went to inform the guards. Paying the ransom would be a terrible loss all around. Aidan thought this, then looked toward the suddenly noisy section of the warehouse. What were they arguing about now? No peace at all, the little scoundrels, and it was getting on Aidan's nerves. The man guarding him couldn't sit still either — muttering, “what are they making noise about?” — stood up, opened the room's door, and walked out.

Aidan soaked in the chaos of the kidnapper-filled warehouse and stared restlessly at the open door. His hands and feet were bound together — even with the door open, escape was impossible. His thoughts drifted involuntarily to the top girl at the hometown pleasure district, “Blue Cat”, to her enormous breasts — then to his niece Isa, whose pair had grown considerably larger by now. He drifted through memories of the women he'd known at the pleasure district, the bound hands stiff and cold behind his back, cycling through the techniques he'd practiced with them. Ah, forgive me, brother, but if I get out of this alive, maybe I'll find an excuse to get a feel of Isa's—

The shadows from the oil lamp at the doorway warped in Aidan's vision, shifting into shapely silhouettes. One shadow was walking toward him now, high-heel footsteps crisp and clear through the noise. In his daze he saw a figure appear at the door — glossy black latex wrapping the whole body, highlighting a wild figure, an enormous pair of breasts swaying with each step, fragrant milk slowly overflowing as they bounced.

In eyes fogged by the aphrodisiac, this personification of temptation walked toward the dazed Aidan. The man felt his wrists loosen — and he stood, wanting to say something but unable to find words. The dark succubus crouched at his feet, a beam of magical light from her eyes cutting his ankle bindings, then rose and embraced Aidan. A pair of warm, soft breast-spheres pressed densely between Aidan and this creature, sinking him into a dream-like embrace, his mind a blank.

Aidan's weak, hollow feet walked past the kidnappers. The men were gathered around something and shouting, entirely ignoring him and her. He walked openly through them, stepping into the dim yellow light of the streetlamp outside.

The temptress stepped back, releasing his waist. Those enormous breasts left his body, and only when they did did Aidan register the emptiness — the milk's traces remained on his shirt, burning like something alight.

“It's over. You're safe.”

He heard the voice, stared blankly, and looked toward the devil beneath the black latex. Aidan's eyes were burning. He looked at her slender tiptoed feet, her full rounded rear and hourglass waist, the enormous pair, then at her face — no features, only an onahole. His not-particularly-intelligent brain, in the extremity of hunger-starvation and desire-starvation, was a featureless desert, unable to think.

He instinctively took the hand of the black succubus before him and didn't let go.

In the days of close contact with Isa at the base, Alice had often imagined: if one day she broke through that last wall and threw this body, existing only for sex, into the middle of strange men — surrounded and frantically used — what would that feel like? Would the weakness and inability to resist give her a small-animal's fear? Would the exhilaration of going further down the road of depravity give her a morbid joy? Or would crossing the final line bring a purposeless void?

Alice had carried a little of that panic into this, trembling in anticipation. She felt the large hands at her waist. Through the narrow field of her helmet camera, she looked at the unfamiliar men's ugly, twisted faces. The camera's limits prevented her from seeing her own lower body, but Alice could easily sense through her sensitive passage-flesh how a real male's sex organ approached her female passage.

Her passage-flesh convulsed in extreme arousal, gradually accommodating the scorching body, accommodating the medal of descending one more step into depravity.

From this moment, I, Alice, have officially transitioned from a very adventurous girl to an anyone-can-use slut.

Alice panted with excitement, mouth-onahole emitting hissing sounds. She expertly contracted the thoroughly wet latex passage-flesh, matching the man's thrusting rhythm with corresponding tightening and releasing of the ridged flesh-folds inside. Just through self-hypnotic fantasy alone, Alice had already climaxed to the point of continuous milk spraying.

She watched the kidnappers crowding in, felt the pulling pain of being contested, her heartbeat nearly leaping from her mouth-onahole to the floor. She felt herself grabbed from multiple directions and pressed face-down into the air, the sticky semen inside her heating her whole body. Her mouth-onahole was plugged by a rank cock, her breasts pulled left and right and spread apart, breast-onaholes penetrated as well.

Being completely used as a toy. Really, it feels like…

…is that it?

Alice sucked on the cock in her mouth-onahole and thought this.

She was thinking. Actually thinking. If it had been the devices and equipment at the base doing the conditioning, she'd presumably be climaxing through continuous peaks to the point of no coherent thought at all. But with these men, after an initial period of trembling from the symbolism of going further down the road of depravity, once her thoughts cleared, she couldn't even sustain continuous climax.

Alice twisted her waist. The man in her pussy had started his final sprint — the brute force was something, and the high-speed glans friction was enough for climax — but there wasn't a single technique, and it never hit the right places. An ordinary man's sex organ, even enlarged from absorbing her own sexual fluids, wouldn't spontaneously develop stimulating bumps or electricity-conducting organs.

Somewhat disappointing. Alice rolled her eyes inside the latex (though they'd gone unseen for who knows how many days now), and focused on using her passage to milk the currently-climaxing cock.

“Feels like it's getting tighter and tighter… I, like this, ahhh… ahhh mmh ♡! Stop, I've already… don't want to… ♡”

The powerful man produced pitiful moaning sounds. Although the ejaculation had finished, he was still being drained, intermittently losing fluid. When the gang-rape had first started, if anyone had whimpered under Alice's milking they would have been laughed at — now every single person was too occupied with their own situation to notice anyone else.

It made sense, really. An ordinary male's equipment existed for reproduction and wouldn't spontaneously develop masterful technique. Naturally, it compared poorly to the sex-specialized equipment at the base, built purely to push the body's limits. Correspondingly, Alice's residual body had near-zero locomotion — but these last remaining capabilities had been trained to the utmost extremity through all the self-conditioning, augmented by the ancient-era chemical compounds beyond this era's understanding.

Alice clamped the mouth-onahole shut. The man in it was shooting thin, weak fluid by now — a few feeble streams, and then the grip on her cheek handles went slack. She saw the stomach blocking her camera pull back and sink down. The man lay on his back, cock still erect and burning, trickling clear fluid, his body entirely unable to muster the strength to even roll over.

“No choice but to try.” Isa watched Alice from a distance, holding the kidnappers' complete attention, and murmured this to herself.

Only after teleporting to Tasnor City did Isa realize she'd forgotten something — something she couldn't improvise locally and had no time to retrieve from the base.

The reason Isa hadn't simply teleported back for it: the transport device planted in her uterus this morning had a mass limit per transport. The full-limbed Isa was different from the small-framed, limbless-torso Alice — her full body exceeded the freely-transportable weight range. She could force a return transport — but that would mean saying farewell to her own original four limbs.

For the same reason, Isa couldn't simply vanish after rescuing Uncle Aidan. The hastily-assembled plan had called for settling him somewhere and then using the night cover — when townspeople couldn't see her clearly — to find a carriage back near the village and walk to the base.

But now this plan had become awkward due to one fatal omission. Careless Isa had only brought her own face's latex mask. This face could be used with strangers, but couldn't be used with Uncle Aidan — after all, wearing this face meant using her own identity. Uncle was family she lived alongside daily — a few more sentences of conversation would immediately expose her, and he'd discover she was someone depraved to the bone.

Which is exactly why Isa had chosen to show Uncle her bare — no-features, only-an-onahole — “face.” Fortunately, just from that lewd face, Uncle couldn't possibly recognize her.

For nighttime concealment, Isa had also shed her long robe, leaving only the stiletto-heeled boots and the corset as fabric. The black latex skin reflected the dim street lamps — while undeniably incendiary to behold, she was at least hard to spot.

Still, this was desperately shameful regardless — this feeling of being bare outside with onaholes and enormous breasts exposed, being stared at directly by a man who was like a father.

Isa felt the farmer-rough hands gripping her forearm as she slowly moved through the nighttime city edge, face burning under the latex.

Fortunately, Isa's luck held. The small inn she'd pre-booked for after rescuing Uncle had no issues. The front desk had been half-asleep when she checked in before, not looking carefully, and now the front desk was entirely unstaffed.

The oil lamp cast warm light on Isa's glossy latex skin. Doors on either side of the corridor carried the voices of guests talking or resting, and at any moment someone could emerge and have a full view of her depraved figure. Isa breathed in nervous tension, used both hands together to lift the wooden bar from the room door at the end of the corridor, and walked in.

What came next, she'd have to entrust to Uncle — he had freely moving hands, and could use the room key left inside to lock the door. Her loop-grip hands certainly couldn't use a key. By the same logic, she couldn't use a wallet, and so Isa had simply rolled two paper notes — one each — into her left and right palms. When payment was needed, she'd divert the cashier's attention and use the other hand to nudge the roll onto the counter — no need to expose the hands.

After that, theoretically she just needed to settle Uncle down to rest. But there was still the second problem.

Isa turned around, lifted her chin to improve the collar camera's field of view, and looked at her poor dazed uncle behind her. His cash and valuables had naturally been taken. He wasn't even wearing shoes any more. The gaze fixed on her had a flat gray blankness to it, and most pitifully, his stomach had been growling continuously through the whole walk. But Isa couldn't take tomorrow's carriage-fare money to buy him food.

She tightened the onahole on her face, the closest she could get to setting her jaw, and spoke in the flattest tone she could manage: “Close the door. Come here. Pull the plugs out of my nipples.”

Because yes, Isa's food supply had been there all along, hanging heavily from her own chest.

Did Uncle Aidan understand what was about to happen? Hard to say — prolonged hunger and the lingering effect of the aphrodisiac left his thinking sluggish and confused. His weak hands closed the door without knowing quite where he was. He walked toward the black-latex succubus, unable to tell if he was awake or submerged in a hallucination.

Those hands moved at the edges of Isa's enormous breasts — clumsy, drifting, and frantic — fumbling at the edge of the breast-onahole's vibrating plug. The enormous breasts surged at the touch, swaying heavily before Aidan's face. Isa had removed the pendants engraved with her name before departure — but being directly observed and touched on her own sexual organs by a family member still had her gasping.

“Uu… this shouldn't… be like this… ♡ haah mmh ♡”

Uncle — nose catching the scent of milk — pawed and kneaded the enormous breasts with the frantic urgency of a starving infant. Fat and glandular tissue were compressed and deformed. The plug inside the breast-onahole, through dozens of centimetres of flesh-wall, was indirectly pressing against the sensitive breast-onahole interior. Milk secreted rapidly under stimulation, accumulating in the blocked space, and under the combined pressure of fluid-pressure and external kneading, the cock-shaped plugs began to gradually work their way outward.

This isn't right this isn't right even though there was no choice, but this still Uncle is a father-figure so how can Isa be aroused by this this is so wrong this will end in such depraved chaos eventually becoming as bad as—

“HUOOOOO ♡!!”

Left then right — two cocks were squeezed from places they were never meant to be inserted. The absolutely stomach-busting volume of milk instantly erupted from the pair of watermelon-sized breasts. Isa arched her waist, raised the latex-covered contour of her head, and the involuntary moan that escaped the collar's tiny holes was somewhat distorted from the extreme guilt-and-release combination. In that moment, Isa suddenly understood why Alice had never been angry at her.

Even just having my breasts bullied by someone without exposing my identity already feels this good.

An Aidan simultaneously “hungry” and “aroused” had no option of stopping. Isa felt her uncle's wide mouth clamping down hard on the fat nipple expanded into a tube-shape inside the red latex, his whole face driving into the massive black breast, her entire breast deforming under the pressure. The swallowing sounds were so loud they nearly drowned out the last half-portion of Isa's reason.

“Ahhh… ♡ ahhh… you've had enough… let go now ♡ it's time… to sleep… uncle… ♡”

Neither Aidan nor Isa noticed the misplaced word. The man's hunger — in this one sense of the word — was satisfied, and the satisfaction of that hunger immediately made the other kind of hunger churn all the more intensely.

The milk Alice had engineered could stimulate a dairy cow's sex hormones to increase yield — and equally stimulate a human's sex hormones. Aidan had already been too far gone to think clearly from the aphrodisiac. After drinking this milk, only one thing remained to do.

The man exhaled hard, and without a word, pinned the black succubus on the bed.

He shifted his hips. The trousers already missing their belt slid down effortlessly, exposing a scorching, fully-erect sex organ emitting visible heat.

“No… this is wrong, at least not this… ♡ really not this ♡ not this ahhhh ♡!”

Isa raised her latex-wrapped hands, weakly pushing against the man's head and shoulders. However, things had gone, being penetrated by a father-figure was truly unacceptable — that was actual incest. She couldn't—

And yet, the tearful protest from the black succubus beneath him was enough to reach the genuinely good-natured Aidan — at his baseline, his conscience outweighed his desire, and he would have straightened up and left. But after directly drinking that milk which catalysed all sexual function, this kind of pleading could only further inflame him.

He seized both grip handles on the succubus's cheeks and prepared to sample the sex-organ on her face — but as he straightened up, he felt the resistance of black latex calves at his waist. Her mouth, her hands, all protesting. But her legs were wrapped around him.

The trace of ferocity on the man's face dissolved into understanding, then laughter. He pressed both knees to the bed on either side of the succubus's armpits, one hand seized the face-handles, the other guided the cock — shaking with its own rigidity — and drove it into the depths of the onahole on her face.

The night passed in a flash. Something important disappeared with it. Once the last restraining line was crossed, Isa's desires would roll like a boulder from a mountain — impossible to stop until they hit the valley floor. But that is a story for later.

Morning haze softened the light in the room, two bodies — one black, one pale — tangled messily across the bed. The man was completely bare, his sex organ wilted like a dead snake after the night's excess. The female body's glossy black skin was covered in drying white traces — at the edges of the mouth-onahole, at the breast-onahole tips, and most significantly between the legs — dried semen.

What woke them was an urgent knocking at the door. Isa, unsure how to conduct herself after a night like this, lay on her side pretending to be asleep. The collar's camera caught the man groaning as he grabbed his lower back and climbed from the bed, walking to the door. She heard the sound of dressing, heard the door open and close, then heard a conversation beginning between Picel and someone outside.

“Ah, Mister Aidan Leminna, what a relief to see you safe and well. It seems the young person outside wasn't wrong — you really are here. Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Marshal Sawyers.”

“Morning… what can I do for you?”

“First, please accept my apologies that our rescue arrived too late. Second, could you tell us how you escaped from the kidnappers? When we arrived at their headquarters, they were all in a state of undress and unconscious on the floor — no external injuries, but all of them comatose. The scene smelled strongly of… male glandular secretions. Our assessment is that the most likely explanation is a succubus having entered the city.”

“I wasn't very lucid at the time. I'd gone without food for too long, and it was dark.”

“Please think carefully, sir. An uncontrolled succubus would cause serious disruption to the entire city's intimate commerce industry — an arrest must be made.”

“Let me understand: you want to trade the cash and contracts taken from me for whatever I might know?”

“Of course not, sir. If you'd like them returned, you may come to our office now—”

“Then take me there now. I want to see my money first.”

Isa heard two deliberate knocks at the door. If she didn't want to be arrested as a wild succubus, she really needed to leave. She carefully rose from the bed, used her loop-grip hands to clamp the fully-everted latex mask from the headboard, clamped the two rods for the mouth-onahole and the urethra-shaped nostril positions, endured the pleasure of inserting them into her facial “vagina” and “urethra”, and began slowly working the full face-cover back over.

Five hours earlier. Tasnor City outskirts, “The Laim Gang” headquarters.

Alice lay pleasurably across a man's abdomen, slowly swaying her thick latex buttocks. Semen continued flowing from the rear passage, dripping at the well-used junction. The cock inside had been thoroughly drained, but under the double effect of Alice's expert passage technique and the body's surface-evaporating aphrodisiac, it was still intermittently trembling out thin, watery semen.

This should be the last one still conscious.

Although the men's technique and equipment were far below the base's devices, the prolonged engagement and the “sense of being conquered” that only comes from intercourse with a genuinely male body had at points made Alice tremble with genuine enjoyment, and her head was still somewhat hazy even now. The aphrodisiac on her body had mostly evaporated — like the physical and mental energy she'd expended.

“I can still… go again…”

The voice came from outside her view. The man pinned beneath her showed no reaction whatsoever. Alice felt the person who spoke grip her face handles and steel themselves for the next round. But once her residual body was dragged off this cock, the hands on the handles released, and the man making the offer collapsed to the floor with a thud.

Alice, losing her support point, tilted sideways off the male abdomen. Her enormous breasts hit the floor first, the impact fully absorbed by the sensitive breast-flesh and glandular tissue, the resulting pleasure making her exhale and shudder. Milk and semen mixed and spurted from the breast-onaholes.

“Sss… huu… ♡”

The limbless latex doll lay face-down, breast-flesh squirming like a snail's foot, moving the residual body forward incrementally. Alice rested briefly, felt her mental energy recover somewhat, and felt the floor's chill becoming uncomfortable.

Alice had expected to be violated to unconsciousness, automatically teleporting back on the operation's four-hour mark — but the operation, while wild, had run far over four hours without managing to knock her out.

Still, even if this violation wasn't the mind-dissolving surrender of fantasy, the high-intensity physical expenditure and the mental toll of staying up through the night were very real. Several hours ago, when Alice had manually cancelled the “imminent auto-teleport” process, she hadn't anticipated being this tired now. The aphrodisiac had mostly evaporated — like her energy and mental reserves.

Alice took a deep breath, forced herself to focus, and arbitrarily pulled up a stored teleportation coordinate from memory. The uterus-mounted teleporter activated, and the cold, unfamiliar darkness around Alice shifted into another warm and familiar darkness. She appeared ten-or-so centimetres above her bed and landed softly on it.

What a long day. Alice twisted her hips contentedly, rolled over hard to press the helmet's camera against the bed and block the moonlight coming through the window, breathed the bed's sweet scent, and let her mind go. Even covered in semen, even without enormous vibrators filling her, even with all the breast-onaholes and lower onaholes open and slightly cooling, Alice relaxed her residual body, let the semen slowly flow from all the round red onaholes, and slipped into sleep.

Mm, so bright… so annoying… why is it so bright…

Alice surfaced from deep sleep, exhaling irritably through the mouth-onahole: “Huu…”

The light before her was not the base's lighting. Alice saw the moon shining through her hometown's window onto the bed, onto her supine body.

Did I teleport to the wrong place?

A faint, melodic, recitation-like singing drifted at the edge of her awareness, as if Alice hadn't quite finished waking. She felt she'd slept about two hours and recovered most of her body, but the warm bed was tempting her to roll back over and press the forehead camera back to the mattress and keep sleeping.

Wait. The bed?

Alice's residual body jolted. She couldn't possibly have pulled a blanket over herself while asleep — she was a limbless torso. Which meant—

Alice twisted energetically, emerging from the blanket. She turned her head and observed herself in the bedroom's full-length mirror. The hourglass-then-swelling torso was still glossy and smooth. The breast-onaholes slowly dripped milk. But there was no trace of semen anywhere on the body.

Someone had cleaned her. And covered her with the blanket. It wasn't Isa — Isa would have switched off Alice's camera to let her sleep peacefully. It couldn't be a thief — even if residual aphrodisiac wouldn't turn someone into an aroused monkey, there was no reason a thief would clean a latex masturbation-sleeve rather than just use it. And it certainly couldn't be Snowball, who was watching the base.

Alice actually knew. But she genuinely did not want to think about it. If it were him — that particular person—

“That is the holy father, crowned in blood and thorns, walking toward glory!” The faint, pedantic singing grew clearer as the opera reached its climax, the sound coming from the phonograph one floor below. Alice suddenly remembered — this was Uncle Picel's favourite aria. He listened to it when he was particularly happy, or particularly sad.

The facts were as simple as this: after losing consciousness and waking, Picel had not left Alice's room. He had lain on the bed sorting through his internal chaos. Just when he'd composed himself and was preparing to leave, the exhausted, drowsy Alice confused the coordinates for home and base and dropped directly before his eyes.

“Sss… huu…”

Alice breathed painfully. Air passing the cordless throat produced that sound.

During the time she'd been unconscious, Uncle had not only seen her with all passages wide open and filled with semen — he had endured the residual aphrodisiac and personally cleaned her.

Just imagining the agonized expression he must have worn, Alice felt she might be crushed by the embarrassment and guilt. Not to mention — what kind of feelings had Uncle Picel spent the last two hours sitting downstairs nursing, waiting for Alice to wake?

Oh, no. What do I do.

At approximately 1 AM on the 14th day of the 7th month of the year 1417 of the Radiant Calendar, Alice Aiwen ceased thinking. She was 16 years old.